


(Even When It's Not) About You

by lpfan503



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Bournoda, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pining, Post traumatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-24 00:57:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20017642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lpfan503/pseuds/lpfan503
Summary: Rob deals with the shock of losing Chester, Mike's depth of mourning, and his own complicated feelings as the Post Traumatic album comes to fruition. It's hard to be the quiet one in the band. BOURNODA, Post Traumatic Era. Rated for future content.





	1. Place To Start

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s my new idea! I’m ready to give Bournoda a shot. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and decided there’s no time like the present. I swear I’m still working on Forever but I’m finding it hard to focus. I’ll get it finished, though. Working on something new might motivate me to get it completed.
> 
> This is an after OML/Post Traumatic story, implied Bennoda and future Bournoda.

When Rob first left Los Angeles, two days after the show at the Hollywood Bowl, he couldn’t answer the other guys questions.

_Where are you going?_

_When are you coming back?_

_Is there anything we can do to help?_

He remembered how Mike just watched with hollow, tired eyes as Rob shrugged his shoulders, not bothering to move the shaggy hair away from his own eyes. He didn’t want to be seen. He didn’t want to be heard. He didn’t want to be there anymore. He needed to be away, from the band, from his brothers, from Mike.

It hadn’t been his idea, the tribute show. The “Celebration of Life” as Mike named it. Rob had sided with Brad. How could they go on stage without Chester? Mike didn’t have an immediate answer, but he felt strongly about doing the show, and Phoenix was right there with him, encouraging everyone. It didn’t take long for Joe to cave, and then Rob had found himself mired in a never ending swamp of rehearsals where nothing sounded right. Nothing felt right. Nothing would ever be the same again, no matter how much they all tried to fight the reality of it. It was painfully obvious that night, that three-hour never ending hell of a marathon he’d been forced to run. Chester was gone. Rob had fixed his eyes on his drum set and tried to pretend that Mike wasn’t high, hadn’t come to the set having smoked enough weed to get him through the nightmare of his own creation. 

Even though he knew it was irrational and wrong, Rob blamed himself for Chester’s death. How many years had he sat silently from his perch behind the drums, watching things unfold? Watching Mike issue the commands, the orders, while Chester blindly obeyed? While Brad tried to argue but never won? While Dave ran interference and Joe made jokes, and nobody seemed to see or hear as Chester slowly and surely descended into the private hell in his mind? While Mike turned a blind eye to what he was doing, what was happening?

Rob watched the past month silently, as silently as he had watched the past twenty years unfold, and that silence took away their friend. Took from the band their brother and their singer, all in one fell swoop. He should have spoken up. He should have told Mike long ago what he saw, while it still could have made a difference. Mike could have gotten through to him. Mike could have changed everything, if only Rob hadn’t pretended to be blind. Mike could have changed everything, if only Rob hadn’t been so selfish. Was it fair to place all of that on Mike? Were they all just one argument away from laying all the blame on him? 

When he stood up from the table in Brad’s kitchen and grabbed his wallet, he didn’t say goodbye. Rob walked out, leaving his phone in the center of Brad’s table. No backwards glance, no explanations. Just that he was going. The only ties he had were to the band. No wife. No children. Not even a dog. The aimless sensation he’d felt since Chester left them was the only tie he had to anything anymore, and he was ready to cut that one, too. He never knew that losing someone could cut so deep. Someone he loved, and someone his brothers loved. Someone that Mike loved. Despite everything, Rob knew that Mike loved him. It was the reason Rob got up and walked away. Because Mike loved Chester.

He’d watched that, too, from behind his drum set in the studio or atop his riser in their touring days as his in-ear monitors clicked time and fed him just the right mix of Mike and Chester’s vocals. There was no denying that together they were stronger than they were apart. And even though they didn’t think he knew… Rob knew they were lovers. He could see their love for each other. He was the only one who got the rear view of their grasping hands and lingering touches.

 _The thing about being the quiet one is that everyone around you thinks you don’t see anything because you don’t say anything._ He wanted to pull Mike aside now and say, _I know everything. I know how you two fought, I know how you made up. Against the wall in dressing rooms. Hidden away in hotels. I know how you loved him, and he loved you, too. I watched it all._ But how could he say anything, when Mike looked as though he’d dropped twenty pounds overnight and been pulled through the smallest opening imaginable and spit out on the other side? How could Rob add more to what was already a burden of guilt heavy upon Mike’s shoulders? 

He couldn’t, because what nobody knew, what Mike didn’t know and Rob could have gone his whole life without admitting, was that he loved Mike. If he wanted to be honest with himself, he always had. But now Chester was gone, and somewhere inside, Rob felt guilty for that. Guilty that he hadn’t saved his friend. Guilty that Chester was gone, but Rob Bourdon was still there. And Mike didn’t see him. Not really. All he saw was the void where Chester should have been. It was dark and deep and nobody could hear the screams from inside. Rob didn’t know if Mike would ever see the other side of that pit. 

So he left them - left _Mike_ \- and went out on his own for the first time since before the band. Before Chester, before Linkin Park, before the six of them became the world’s biggest band. He went out to find himself. Who was Rob Bourdon, when everything was stripped away, down to the core. When he wasn’t behind the drum set, who was he? 

****

TBC


	2. Over Again

Rob sat in the driveway for a few minutes, his satin finish black Range Rover idling silently as he looked over the front of his house and the typical Southern California landscaping that was there. He was thirty-eight years old. Almost thirty-nine. The material comforts he was accustomed to were all a product of having more money than he knew what to do with. There was no significant other, no children other than nieces and nephews on which to blow his cash, and his brother Dave discouraged that anyway. So he sat on October 29, 2017, and decided it didn’t matter if he walked away from it all. Forever or temporarily, he wasn’t exactly sure yet. 

He knew where his passport was, and he had access to money, that wasn’t a problem. He knew his mother would worry if he just took off, but he’d left his cell phone at Brad’s. At the moment it had seemed a useful decision - leaving it behind meant that the guys couldn’t call him. Now it seemed petulant and childish, but there was no way he was going back to get it. Reluctantly he put the Range Rover in reverse and started toward the Verizon store, hoping he could get in and out without it being a huge ordeal.

To his surprise, he walked out an hour later with a new cell phone in his hands and instructions on how to block his number when he placed a call from it, and that made all the difference in the world. Rob could feel how close he was to freedom, to what he’d been thinking about for the last six weeks. All he had to do now was pack a suitcase and call his mother. There were two thoughts in his head on where to go, and both sounded great. Portugal in November was supposed to be a great place to surf, and there was a place in Mexico he’d been before they started the last tour. He wasn’t going to be bothered to take equipment with him. Purchasing what he wanted when he got to wherever he was going would be good enough. The idea of only taking a backpack was appealing. A small backpack. Or maybe nothing at all.

 _Tomorrow,_ he decided as the Range Rover ascended into the hills. _I’ll pack tonight and go to the airport in the morning. Whatever comes out of my mouth when I go to the ticket counter, that’s where I’m going. Mexico or Portugal. I think I want to go to Portugal._

Rob pulled back into his driveway, and this time he was not alone. He recognized Brad’s Volvo sport utility tank and sighed. It didn’t matter what Brad said, he wasn’t going back to the meeting. Or anywhere. Even if Brad was on his side. He left the Verizon bag in the front seat and pocketed the new cell phone before he stepped out of the Range Rover and walked up the sidewalk to his front porch, where Brad was sitting on the steps, waiting. 

“How’d you know I was coming here?” Rob said by way of greeting. “You could have been sitting out here for days.”

Brad looked up, squinting at the brightness of the setting sun behind Rob’s head. “You’re really taking off, then?” he asked, not moving to stand up. 

Rob sat down next to him and stretched his legs out. He looked down at Brad’s left leg, still surprised to see it out of the boot he’d had it in for so many months. It had even made its way into their _One More Light_ promo pictures shot in front of Warner, and Rob violently pushed away the memories of that day that blinded him in a flash. Chester and Mike had been all over each other, in that way that only Rob knew they were serious and everyone else laughed off. It had been a good day otherwise, full of celebration and smiles, and grand visions of the future. None of which would come to fruition now. “Of all of you guys, I thought you’d understand,” Rob said quietly. He reached down and picked a weed that was poking through the rocks next to the sidewalk.

“Of course I understand,” Brad answered, wrapping his arms around his middle even though it was warm enough outside. He’d struggled through the show a couple of nights ago just like Rob. Smiles were sparse, and when they did come, they felt artificial, though he’d stoically made it through every single song. Rob hadn’t even managed to do that. Of all of them, he’d taken the most breaks from the stage, letting others play his parts when Brad knew he couldn’t imagine laying another beat. He blew out a long breath. “It’s over now. Mike will leave us alone. He’ll finally let it rest.”

“Will he?” Rob instantly regretted the bitter words when from the corner of his eye he saw Brad flinch and then turn to face him. “You know him, Brad. He never stops. He’s barely dealt with the reality of things. In fact, I don’t think he’s dealt with it at all.” He threw down the dandelion and dropped his head, looking at the steps under his legs. “I know we all miss him, Brad. But Mike, he’s not well. And he’s ignoring it. I have to get out of here before it drives me crazy. I need some peace.”

Brad unwrapped one of his arms from his body and scrubbed his hand over the top of his hair. It was streaked with gray at the temples, like Rob’s, and his back already hurt from sitting on the ground. They were so much older than they were when they first started out, when he could bend over and play his guitar as it practically touched the floor. Over the years, Chester had been meticulous about maintaining his physique, Mike less so but still disciplined, and Rob had never let his personal trainer go after gearing up for the Hunting Party tour. But Brad was his same skinny, scrawny self, and with his lack of weight training came back problems. “He is a mess,” Brad finally agreed as he stood up and stretched. “He looks like he hasn’t slept in months. I hope you don’t really think you’re going to go off without saying goodbye. I’m not sure he can handle it, Bourdie.” He dug in his pocket and produced Rob’s cell phone, dangling it in front of him. “At least call him.”

Rob hesitated before he reached out and took the phone. “He won’t even notice. He’s so absorbed in everything else…” His voice trailed off and he stood up, dusting off the back of his pants. “You want to come in?”

“You gonna tell me where you’re going?”

They stood looking at each other in the dying sunlight for a moment, each wondering what the other was really thinking. Rob had always seen Brad like an older brother, someone he could confide in, and Brad always had his back. When they lost arguments with Mike, they lost together. Brad never sided with Mike against him. But this time, he didn’t want to tell Brad what was going on inside his head. He really hadn’t sorted it out himself.

“No,” Rob said finally, his voice low but clear. “I just need you to know it’s something I need to do. I need to have a chance to get away from _this_ for a while.” He shook the cell phone between them, and Brad’s eyes went right to it. “I’ve been doing everything for the greater good for so long, I just want some time to myself. We’re supposed to be on tour, you know.” The little bit of fire he’d felt in his words seemed to burn out, a lump forming in his throat instead. “ _This_ is all I have, Brad. And it’s done. So what’s next? We’re too old to start over again.”

Brad turned away and looked out over the manicured lawn that he knew Rob - like all the rest of them - paid someone to take care of for him. “Mike will have a plan. He always does.” He looked at the sunset, at the streaks of pink and orange in the sky, and closed his eyes. Everything went back to Chester now, even pink skies. _Every single thing Talinda or Mike puts out on social media, our fans latch on to. And it just becomes… the thing. The next thing that we can’t get away from. The next reminder that he’s gone at every turn._ “I understand why you want to go, I do. Just don’t leave Mike without saying something.”

Rob rubbed the back of his neck as he thought, his fingers getting lost in the messy tangle of unkempt hair he was sporting these days. “I’ll call him. But I don’t want to be bothered when I’m gone. I’m leaving this phone here, just so you know. I think we all need some space. I know there’s no way to change the reality of things. But I’m tired of being hit in the face with it every second of every day.” He couldn’t imagine what it was like for Mike, having it all right in front of him all the time. Every time he picked up his phone. The whole world knew and loved his _friendship_ with Chester. _If they only knew._

“Space is fine,” Brad argued almost angrily, turning back to Rob, “but somebody’s got to watch Mike. You saw him the other night. I can only imagine the amount of pot he’s got. I guess you’re leaving me to do that?”

“Anna’s there. And Joe and Dave are around, too,” Rob reminded him. “And he doesn’t need a babysitter. It’s Mike. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Mike now isn’t the same Mike from before.” Brad looked up to the pink sky again. “Mike without Chester is just… different. I don’t think he’ll ever be the same.” 

It was something Rob had considered a lot the past few weeks. Mike _wasn’t_ the same, and even though he knew Mike’s grief was different from the grief the rest of them were feeling, he knew Brad and the others didn’t know about the affair. Rob hadn’t told Brad about going to Mike’s after the funeral, about Mike’s blank stare and the bottle of valium on the counter, the empty bottle of whiskey next to it. That night had broken Rob’s heart, watching Mike struggle with the thought of telling Rob everything but ultimately saying nothing. He could see it in his friend’s eyes, the need to tell _someone_ what Chester had been in his life, but it hadn’t happened. 

“None of us are going to be the same. And I know I shouldn’t be angry at Chester, but sometimes I just think, if he’d known what it would do to Mike, to all of us, to his _family_ , would he have still done it?” Rob pushed his glasses up from the center and peered down at Brad through them. “I know Chester was sick, Brad, we all knew it. I can’t help thinking we didn’t do enough. There were so many times we could have intervened-”

“And we did!” Brad objected passionately. “You know we did. And Mike, he’s been through the wringer with him! Blaming ourselves or each other isn’t going to make this whole nightmare go away.” He had started to pace the sidewalk in front of Rob’s house. “If you need to go, then go. We’ve done the public thing, I don’t know what else Mike could ask from us at this point. I want to get away, too, but three kids makes it hard to shut everything out. Chester’s gone but we’re still here, Bourdie.” Brad smacked his chest with his hand. “We’ve got to figure out how to keep going, and Mike’s got to figure it out, too. With or without us. I don’t know about the band! I know how you felt the other night, but at least you got to be behind the damn drum set, that monstrous creation. But I didn’t have anywhere to go. He had me right out there in the front, same as always. Like anything was the same,” Brad ranted bitterly. “Nothing is the same. He’s going to have to face it.”

Rob reached out, pulling Brad into a hug. It didn’t feel much different than hugs they’d shared in high school, other than the fact that they were so much more comfortable, more capable of showing affection now than they had been back then. “I don’t know when I’ll be back,” he said softly in a sudden decision, his arm around Brad’s thin shoulders. Brad had always looked fragile next to him. “I won’t stay gone forever. I’ll come back, and I’ll call at some point. Don’t worry about me.”

Brad slung his arms around Rob in return. “It’s hard not to worry about you,” he responded, his voice muffled by Rob’s shoulder. “You’re the baby, you know,” he said lightly, his voice tight with emotion. 

“Stop that, you know I can kick anyone’s ass.” They held the embrace for another second before they let go, and Rob saw Brad hastily wipe the corner of his eyes. “I’m the last person you need to worry about. The person you need to worry about is Mike. Don’t go too long without seeing him, Brad.” Rob hated to leave everything related to Mike’s mental health in Brad’s hands, but he wasn’t equipped to deal with it. Not now.

“At least check your voicemail once in a while,” Brad insisted as he stepped away and toward the driveway. 

Rob nodded, but he didn’t make any reassurances. “I’m glad you came by. Take care of yourself.” He watched Brad nod in turn, and then he was around the corner and gone.

****

It was only nine o’clock when Rob sat down on the edge of his bed. He had packed a small backpack with the essentials: toothpaste and toothbrush, deodorant, a change of clothing and two pairs of underwear. An iPhone charger was stuck in the small front zipper pocket. A black notebook and his favorite pen were in the bottom of the backpack, just in case he needed to jot something down. It was as little as he could carry with him, and that was exactly what he wanted. No encumbrances. 

As expected, his mom wasn’t thrilled to hear he was going away for awhile, but Dave seemed to get it when Rob called to ask him to come by and check on the house periodically. The whole trip was open-ended, he’d told his brother, and he just wanted to make sure everything was still there when he came back. Rob didn’t mention he wasn’t sure if he was coming back.

He picked up his phone - the one that everyone called all the time -and clicked his contacts. One by one Rob transferred the guy’s personal cell numbers into his phone under their code names. Ken S., B. Ford, David P., and Han Solo. It had started as a joke, way back when they first hit it big and Mike had been paranoid about their phones falling into the wrong hands and everyone having their cell phone numbers. It didn’t matter that he used his personal number for fliers back in the days of Xero - Mike Shinoda of Linkin Park wanted his privacy. So they’d all teasingly put their brothers names in their phones as codes, and Rob had never changed them back. He got to Ben Charles and stared at it for a moment before he sighed and went on to add his mom, dad, and brother. Those were the only numbers he needed, and even then, he wasn’t sure he’d be calling anyone. 

Rob turned off the new cell phone and tucked in into the outside pocket of his backpack. With his regular cell in his back pocket, he started a quick trip around the house to make sure everything was locked up and turned off. He walked the entire downstairs first, checking each window and door. Walking through the living room, he paused to look out at the pool as he closed the shades. The back gate was locked up already, and he wasn’t concerned with leaving the pool uncovered. There were concrete walls and a gate around his property. It would all be fine.

In the kitchen he threw out everything perishable and carried the trash out. Dave would be by to put the trash and recycle cans away for him, so that wasn’t a concern either. By the time he’d finished his pre-tour preparations, it was eleven thirty. He’d put off calling Mike as long as he could. 

_It’s like getting ready to leave on tour, but we’re not going on tour. This is for me. Just me. I just need to leave it all behind for a while. However long it takes._

Rob scrolled to Ken S. and hit the call button, waiting impatiently while it rang and rang, then went to Mike’s voicemail. He picked at the black and gray duvet cover on his bed and waited for the beep.

“Hey… I wanted to let you know I’m heading out tomorrow. I’m not taking my phone… but I’ll check in… I just need a break from things…” Rob paused, trying to think of what to say, but he couldn’t find the right words. “Get some rest, Mike,” he finally decided. “I’ll catch you later.”

He disconnected the call and thought about sending a text, but he powered the phone off instead. It would be the last time he looked at it until he returned home. Rob placed it carefully on the nightstand and then stood up to pull back the sheets and lay down. Despite years of meditation practice, it had been so hard lately to clear his mind completely. Getting away had to help. It was the last solution he could come up with. He could only hope sleep would come quickly.

****  
TBC


	3. Watching As I Fall

After only a week in Portugal, Rob could feel his spirit starting to center again. The morning after he walked out on the band, he’d taken an Uber to the airport. It still amazed him that he could do something like take an Uber through L.A. and not be recognized. Maybe fifteen years ago it would have been a different story. But 2017 Rob Bourdon was a silent band member in the background, and he took a silent ride to the airport as well. The Uber driver didn’t even really look him in the face, and they’d only exchanged token pleasantries when Rob entered and exited the vehicle.

The decision to ultimately wind up in Portugal had been a surprise, the name of the country rolling off his tongue quietly as he leaned over the counter and kept his voice between him and the airline employee. She’d only lifted an eyebrow when he asked which flight combination had a first class seat available at the last minute, and Rob handed over his American Express without flinching when she’d named Portugal as his destination. For the rest of the time he waited on the flight, his backpack between his knees, he sat with a hat pulled low over his eyes and used his new iPhone to reserve a small cottage on the coastline for a week. It had seemed like plenty of time to decide if that was where he wanted to stay indefinitely, and once he’d seen the surrounding area, Rob was sold. 

The one bedroom place was right on the water in a more rural location than he’d been expecting, but that was a pleasant surprise. Local markets had fresh produce and meats, and the Airbnb provided the essentials. On the second day he’d taken the train to the nearest city, bought some clothing and visited a surf shop. While he waited a few days for his gear to be delivered, he explored the beach town and found everything still, quiet and peaceful. Simple.

He’d already extended his stay to December, and past that, he’d decide then.

He sat now on the bedroom balcony overlooking the red cliffs and the turquoise ocean, sipping a cup of coffee he’d learned to make in the pour over carafe. Accustomed to making meals for one, Rob found it liberating to have to walk to the market each morning for supplies for the day, since his cottage had only a small icebox in the tiny kitchen. This morning he’d walked down at sunrise, nodding his head at the merchant and thinking he needed to at least learn some simple Portugese. _Mike would learn it fast. He’s so good with languages._

The thought drifted through his mind and he could clearly picture Mike practicing the various languages of places Linkin Park had performed so he could greet the crowd in their native tongue. It was always a source of laughter between him and Chester, Mike struggling to pronounce each word with perfection while Chester teased him. Rob had watched the two of them more times than he could count from his quiet spot in the corner, warming up on a practice pad. If he hadn’t known about their affair, it would have looked like two best friends giving each other a hard time.

 _I did know, though. It still blows my mind the guys have no idea. Even with how the past few months have gone, they’re in the dark. Even after the show, after that song. God, that song._ Rob focused his eyes on the ocean and tried to forget the utter heartbreak in Mike’s voice when he was singing to Chester. He’d been backstage with the rest of the guys, with Talinda and Anna, Elisa and Heidi and Linsey, and while Anna held Talinda, the rest of them watched Mike in silence, something Rob was particularly skilled at doing. He’d seen Brad wipe away tears and Linsey rub Phoenix’s back, all while Mike poured out his heart in front of them. _If they didn’t get it after that, they never will._

The whole point of leaving was to get away from the constant thoughts of Mike, of Mike and Chester, of where the band was headed. So far he was going longer stretches of time without worrying over those things, but it was hard to completely shut them out. It was hard to not think about Mike and the sharp cheekbones that had been uncovered in the wake of grief. It was hard to not wonder if he was drunk, or high, or simply in bed without the ability to function. Rob felt guilty for leaving him, but Mike hadn’t wanted his company anyway, he reasoned. _He could have told me. I could have understood. I guess could have told him I knew, and maybe he would have felt better. I should tell him._

The urge to go turn on his phone and give Mike a call was strong. He checked his watch and calculated that it would be midnight in Los Angeles, and the chances of Mike being awake were high. He set his cup down on the small table next to the deck chair and wandered inside. His anonymous phone was charged and on the nightstand, and he picked it up and powered it on. The reception wasn’t great - two bars - but it would have to be enough. Rob turned the caller ID blocker on and dialed Mike’s number.

It went to voicemail, which wasn’t a surprise. Mike never answered calls unless he knew who it was, and an _Unknown_ number would definitely be one he’d ignore. Rob waited and left a simple message: “It’s Rob. Answer the phone next time I call.” Three minutes later he called again, and this time, Mike answered.

“Hello?”

Mike’s voice was scruffy and tired, and instantly Rob felt his heart pinch. “Mike. It’s Rob.”

There was a moment of silence, then the caustic, “oh, now you want to call. Where in the hell are you, Rob?” 

Mike’s tone sent a rush of guilt over him, and Rob pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “I’m not in L.A.,” he started, closing his eyes. He heard Mike sigh on the other end of the line. “I wanted some time to myself. It’s been hard to find that lately.” He started to say more, but Mike was faster.

“No shit,” Mike said bitterly. “I can’t get one single hour to myself. Everyone wants to check on me all the time. Anna, Brad, my mom. I don’t understand why you all think I’m ready to kill myself. Like if I’m left alone for too long I’ll find a way to go with him.” 

“I don’t think that,” Rob objected immediately. He hadn’t expected this level of contention at the start of the call. He could hear Mike’s heavy breaths through the phone. “Don’t say things like that. That’s exactly the kind of stuff that makes people think that you would.”

“I haven’t said that to anyone else. Just you.” There was a sigh, and the fire seemed to go out of Mike’s voice. “I’m sorry. It just feels like everyone is waiting, watching me. I know you guys, my family, it’s all concern. But the media, it’s such bullshit they can’t leave us alone. They’re hoping to see my whole life fall apart. Well, I’m _not_ going to do that.”

Rob stood up and went to the open door that lead to the balcony. The sun was glittering off the ocean like diamonds on fire. “Fuck the media. I think it’s a valid concern, from us. From people who care about you. You’ve been… different. I mean, you’ve always been driven, Mike, but since Chester died it’s like you’ve got something to prove. You don’t have to prove anything to us, you know that right?”

In his home studio, Mike got up and walked to the french doors that lead to the upstairs terrace. He leaned his forehead against the glass and stared out into the vast blackness. “I don’t know,” he admitted tiredly. “Everything is so fucked up, Bourdie. I sit down to write and it’s all this, this anger and bitterness… this grief and heartache that’s so much bigger than me. When we were planning the show, it gave me something to do, a thing to focus on. But now, there’s nothing,” he ended, the bleakness in his voice causing Rob to drop his head.

“Writing is good for you,” Rob offered. “Getting it all out is better than keeping it all inside. You should really think about that, Mike. Maybe you should go see someone. Talk to a therapist.” He scratched his head and then pushed up his glasses, debating, waiting for Mike to say something. 

“What’s there to say that hasn’t been said?” Mike asked. His voice was hollow, lifeless. “Nothing I can say will put me there in time to save him.”

Rob closed his eyes. In the ear pressed to the phone he could hear the hitch in Mike’s breathing, the tears he was trying to hide, and in the other ear the ocean called him, soothed him. “You’re right. We can’t change what happened. But maybe talking to someone about your feelings, it would help you. It’s not easy to have to grieve him so publicly.” Distance was making Rob brave, and before he could stop himself, he added, “especially when you can’t be honest about your relationship with Chester.” 

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Rob finally looked up again, focusing on the ocean waves and the white crests of foam he could see. It looked life great surfing conditions. _I overstepped. I shouldn’t have said anything. He’s not ready to talk about it, and he might not ever be ready. Who am I to pressure him, when I just left? I couldn’t deal with reality, so I disappeared._ He cleared his throat to take his turn at apologizing, but again, Mike spoke first.

“So you knew, then,” he said quietly.

Rob nodded, stepping back outside to sit down heavily in the deck chair. He picked up his coffee. “I knew. I’ve known for years.” He took a sip of the now lukewarm liquid and waited for Mike to pull himself together. 

“You never said anything.”

“There was no reason to.” Rob could feel a pull toward the ocean, the waves and the sounds and the smells. He regretted getting into this conversation. He’d just started to feel better. 

“I can’t believe you.” Mike paused and swallowed hard. “Do the guys know?”

Rob shook his head. “I don’t think so. If they do, they’ve been like me. They haven’t said anything. But I really don’t think they do. I think it would have come up when we’re talking by now.” 

They were quiet again before Mike admitted, “I think Anna knows. Either she knows, or she’s having a harder time dealing with him being gone that I thought. I’ve been avoiding her, Bourdie. It’s like I can’t even look at her.”

“Well, that’s not going to help anything.” Rob was well aware of the irony in his statement. He was avoiding Mike, too. He was avoiding dealing with his feelings. He’d flown to Portugal on a whim so that he wouldn’t have to look Mike in the eyes and tell him that he wanted to be the one to make things better. 

Rob finished his coffee and tried to find some good advice to give. “You could get away for a while, too. It might help you to go somewhere, clear your head. I already feel better. Just being by myself has been helpful.” Rob didn’t finish the rest of his thought. _Not being next to you while you’re mourning Chester is helping. He was my friend… but he was so much more to you._

“I don’t think I can be alone, Bourdie,” Mike said, his voice strained. “It makes me crazy. When I’m home, I don’t want to be around Anna or the kids, but when I’m by myself I can’t handle it. Chester’s there. I talk to him. Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy.” He swallowed back more tears. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you say something? We were so terrified of being discovered. If you knew and you didn’t care, why didn’t you tell us?” 

It was a question that Rob couldn’t answer truthfully, and one he’d tortured himself with since they’d gotten the news about Chester that July morning. To tell the truth about why he’d kept his knowledge a secret, he would have to admit he’d been in love with Mike for years. As broken as Mike was right now, Rob knew it wasn’t the right time. There was a lot he wanted to say to Mike about Chester, but he couldn’t add more to Mike’s pain. “I don’t know,” he answered quietly. “I guess I figured if you guys wanted us to know, you would have told us yourselves.” _I only knew because you two would forget that I was even there. You’d get lost in your own world._

“I can’t believe he’s gone.” Tears were silently streaming down Mike’s face. “I just want things back the way they were. When are you coming home, Rob? You don’t have to tell me where you are, but when are you coming back?”

Rob could hear the fear in Mike’s voice, and he decided to tell him right then that his departure from L.A. had more to do with the future of the band than anything else. “I don’t know. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I didn’t just need a break from the grief.” He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I don’t want to keep having those conversations with you guys about the future of the band. I don’t know what I want when it comes to that and I don’t want to lie to you. We’ve been at this for twenty years, Mike. Maybe… maybe it’s time for something else, you know? Twenty years with hardly a break. I just need some space to figure _me_ out.”

Mike’s mood turned immediately from sorrow to anger. “So that’s it, then? You’re just gone, indefinitely? You’re just going to make that choice for all of us? That’s not fair and you know it. The six of us make decisions together, Rob!” 

Rob held his breath while he waited for Mike to hear what he’d just said. They all still had moments where they weren’t in the reality of the situation, but Mike was almost in denial. 

“The five of us. I meant the five of us. Fuck. It’s been the six of us for so long, Bourdie.” Just as quickly as the anger had come, Mike was choking back tears again. “Don’t stay away,” he pleaded, “I need you here.”

“That’s why I left, Mike. We all need the space to make our own decisions. Not what’s best for the group, but what’s best for each of us.” Rob paused, his heart aching at the thought that they would never be the same. They would always be five now, instead of six. _I’ll come back, and I’ll tell you how I feel. But not now. It’s all wrong now._ “I’ll call you again, I’ll stay in touch. It’s not just me figuring out things, you know. You need to figure out who you are now, too. Once we all know that, then we’ll know how to go forward.” 

“I know who I am,” Mike responded. “I haven’t changed.”

“You don’t want to admit it. We’ve all changed. Go get some rest, Mike. It’s late over there.” Rob waited for Mike’s agreement, then disconnected the call. He sat in the deck chair for a moment, feeling the weight of the secret he’d been keeping about Mike and Chester’s affair lifted from his thoughts. It was the another step in a new direction for him.

But Mike threw his phone at the wall, violently gouging a slash in the sheetrock where it hit before he fell to the floor of the studio in body wracking sobs. When he finished crying it out, he lit another joint, twenty-four hours after he promised himself he was finished trying to block the pain by getting high. Anna would find him in the morning, deeply asleep on the floor, undisturbed by the sunshine glaring over his haggard features. 

Half a world away, Rob slipped his phone into his pocket when the knock on the front door came. He put aside his worry for Mike as his new surfboard was delivered. In a few hours, thoughts of Mike would be far behind while he found his peace in the ocean. 

****  
TBC


	4. Nothing Makes Sense Anymore

There was something incredibly freeing about being in Portugal.

In the weeks since he’d left L.A., Rob’s sense of time had slowly become looser. He’d phoned his brother sometime between when he’d talked to Mike and today to ask about the house, but that was the only contact he’d had with home. He hadn’t picked up a newspaper or watched any television. He hadn’t opened the web browser on his phone. He’d spent the days meditating, walking on the beach, surfing, and reading. While he’d never been a particularly fast reader, the silence and solitude of his life allowed him to focus on whatever he was reading. There was a stack of second hand books next to the chair in the living space that he was ready to return to the bookstore in exchange for credit to bring home new ones. 

His routine was fluid. He slept late and went to bed early. He cooked two small meals a day, and ate fruit for the third. He allowed himself to grieve and then allowed himself to not think about Chester. He thought about Mike and then didn’t think about him for days. He caught himself absently tapping rhythms on his knee and missed his drum room for a few minutes until he breathed in through his nose calmly and focused his thoughts elsewhere. Every day was a new project in self awareness.

Where everything in L.A. had become a constant battle, Rob’s concerns now were limited to what he wanted to eat and when he could surf. This morning he stepped out of the shower and glanced in the small mirror over the pedestal sink in the water closet. A towel was wrapped around his hips and his hair was wet. 

He studied his face for a moment. He was far past the point of worrying over all the gray in his beard or the length of his hair. As he brushed his teeth he wondered about the forecast for the day and how many good hours he’d get in on the waves. Rob pulled the towel off and scrubbed it over his hair before hanging it up to dry and shrugging into a nondescript oversized hoodie and pair of jeans. On his way to the kitchen for coffee he grabbed his glasses and put them on carefully, blinking a few times as the world came back into focus. 

He silently made a list in his head of things to pick up from the market after he’d had his coffee, and for some reason, Mike’s voice poked at his brain while he considered what he wanted. Mike had always been supportive of his vegan lifestyle, even if he didn’t understand it. 

_I’ll always respect your choice, Bourdie, as long as you respect mine. There’s too much food out there for me to limit myself. I just want a little bit of everything._

The memory of Mike’s voice cut his heart. He could clearly picture Mike’s winning smile as his knife cut into a slab of meat that made Rob’s stomach turn, back in the days before he became indifferent. He’d sat at tables with the band and watched Mike, Joe, Dave, and Chester eat plenty of meat over the years, and eventually he’d become accustomed to seeing it and smelling it. He’d never gone back to eating it, but he’d never tried to keep the others from enjoying it themselves. He’d never tried to put any limits on Mike.

He watched the water trickle through the coffee grounds and thought about Mike’s words in that restaurant from so long ago. _A little bit of everything. That’s Mike. No limits to taking what he wants. Including Chester._ A memory in Chester’s voice answered him immediately, squashing Rob’s jealous judgement. _Mike can have whatever he wants._

Then Rob had to sit down as memories of all the times he’d watched Mike wrap his arm around Chester and pull him close before they waved to the crowd sideswiped him. Mike Shinoda always got what he wanted, one way or another, and in Rob’s opinion that post-show embrace was a possessive move. Even now he could feel the jealousy that had always been present as the man he coveted shared the thundering applause with Chester. He could clearly picture the intimate way their bodies aligned, Chester dripping with sweat and Mike unaffected by it as his fingers stroked Chester’s side. Rob always got the quick brotherly hug afterwards when he shyly made his way to the front of the stage to toss drum sticks out into the crowd. All of the times he’d wished to pull Mike closer flooded into his thoughts and he could feel the anxiety that came with the memories, until he pulled in a few deep breaths. He was able to pull himself back from the edge much faster now than a month ago, but it was still difficult to wrap his head around things. It still didn’t seem real that Chester wasn’t coming back. 

Rob squeezed his hands into fists as he breathed in, and let them relax as he breathed out, again and again. _He’s not coming back. Everything is in chaos with us, nothing makes sense, and Chester doesn’t have to deal with it. He’s gone, and we’re here. He’s gone, and Mike is here. Mike will never look at me the way he looked at Chester. He never has. I have to accept that. I’ll have to go back someday, and maybe the five of us will go on… I have to accept that Mike doesn’t see me the way he saw Chester. I can’t go back until I do. I can accept it. I can move forward. I can make peace with what he did. I can’t stay angry at him for hurting Mike. I can make peace with what he did._

He felt his thoughts calming and centering as he opened his eyes. The coffee was ready, and he stood up slowly to reach for it, inhaling the rich aroma. Thoughts of Chester backstage with coffee swirled in his thoughts. Images of Chester and Mike and the gentle caress of their fingers as one passed a coffee cup to the other. Things that nobody saw but Rob. Things that tortured him when Chester was alive and made his heart ache now that he wasn’t. He wanted Chester back - for his family, for the band - but also for Mike. 

The thought that now was his opportunity, now that Chester was gone, was one Rob reviled. He’d never wanted Mike at that cost. He’d been perfectly fine pining away for his friend, watching from a distance as Chester brought light to Mike’s life. It was true he’d been jealous, but he’d also appreciated the relationship that had made Mike so obviously happy. It seemed dirty to even think of telling Mike how he felt now. It seemed disrespectful.

Rob took his coffee to the balcony and sat down, assessing the ocean. With dismay he realized it wasn’t likely he’d get to ride any waves today. Conditions had been good most days since he’d arrived in Portugal, but today the ocean was calmer. It was frustrating, but he couldn’t control the surf, and took his time with his coffee before he loaded his pile of books into a reusable bag and meandered down to the market, walking along the pebbled path. 

The air felt salty, and he didn’t mind when the light breeze blew through his long hair and strands fluttered across his glasses. It was sunny, and he had to squint, and for at least the twentieth time since he’d arrived, he cursed himself for leaving his sunglasses behind. It had been an oversight, and he wished he could just buy a simple pair to wear, but his eyes were worse with age and he needed prescription sunglasses. That wasn’t going to happen in this small coastal town. So he made the best of the situation, walking the few blocks with his eyes barely open.

After exchanging his books for new ones, he walked over to his favorite produce stand and selected the vegetables that would make the bulk of his dinner that evening, a simple vegetarian rice dish. Rob had the staples at home, so it didn’t take long for him to pick his produce and walk over to pay for it, nodding politely to the merchant as he readied his money. 

He was accustomed to disregarding the stack of newspapers next to the produce stand he frequented, but this morning, the date happened to catch his eye. It was December first, and the simple sight of that date brought a swift longing to his heart. How a month had already passed, he didn’t know, but it was Brad’s birthday, and suddenly Rob wanted to hear his voice more than anything in the world. He paid for his items and placed them in his reusable bag, starting for what he was now calling home with purpose. He walked the path back a little faster than he’d came. It was only six a.m. in California, but Rob knew his childhood friend rose every day at five. He was anxious to talk to him even though he hadn’t thought to call for weeks.

Leaving the bag in the kitchen, Rob grabbed his neglected phone and powered it on. For a moment he considered not blocking the number to call Brad. Of everyone he could call, he knew Brad would be the most likely to respect his need for space and not try to reach him at the new number. But not knowing how much longer he planned to be gone, Rob decided to go ahead and block the number before dialing Brad. If he decided to stay in Portugal for a while still, he didn’t want Brad to give in and try to call. He only wanted to have contact on his terms. 

Brad answered on the second ring. It was comforting to know that, even when things were in upheaval, Brad was still Brad, answering the phone without the same caution Mike would have shown an unknown number. “Hello?” Brad’s voice was quiet in the early morning hours, careful not to wake his children or his wife.

“Happy Birthday, Brad.” Rob felt the small smile on his lips and he adjusted his glasses. “I know it’s early, but I also know you never sleep.”

He could hear the immediate change in Brad’s voice as he bantered back, “whatever, Bourdie, I sleep like an adult. Eleven p.m. to five a.m., seven days a week, fifty-two weeks out of the year.” There was a pause, and then a cautious, “how are you, man?”

Rob sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m doing okay,” he answered truthfully. “Some days are better than others. How about you?” 

“Things are as good as they can be,” Brad answered, and Rob could hear the tones of sadness in his voice. “We’re getting ready for Chanukah around here. Think you’ll be back in time for the holidays?”

“I don’t think so.” Rob responded without worry over Brad’s reaction. “I’ve got this little place on the coastline, I can walk to the beach. It’s still great surfing weather out here. I think I might be here a while longer.” He turned his head and looked out the window. “It’s calming. When things start to feel out of control, I can go get on the water and it all goes away.”

Brad took a moment to process Rob’s words. “Where are you?” he finally asked. He didn’t expect Rob to tell him, but he had to ask.

With a sigh, Rob scratched his fingers through his scruffy, unkempt beard. “Portugal,” he finally admitted, his eyes dropping to the floor in front of the bed.

“Portugal?” Brad questioned in surprise. “Damn, were you just trying to see how far away you could get from us?”

“I wanted to surf.” Rob shook his head. “I wanted to get away, too. I don’t know how you’re standing it. Are things better? How’s Mike?” he dared to ask. He heard Brad’s long sigh before he answered.

“I head over every few days to check on him. He looks terrible. Anna says he’s barely coming out of the studio to eat. I’ve tried to talk to him, to find out what he’s doing in there, but he doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t know if he’s in there working or just trying to avoid everything.”

Rob flopped back on the bed, his long legs dangling over the edge. He closed his eyes and tried not to picture Mike the way he’d seen him last - his eyes lifeless, his smiles faint and fake. His body thinner than Rob had ever seen it, even when they were kids. “You guys should take him out. Just get him out of the studio. That can’t be good, being in there all the time.” He felt guilty even suggesting it. He should be there for Mike. _I just can’t do it yet._

“Joe made him go to Comic Con, so that’s something.” Brad looked up to see his wife coming into the kitchen, a quizzical look on her face. “Elisa’s up,” he said into the phone before he raised his voice a bit to his wife. “It’s Rob.” He saw her eyes widen as she nodded, and he put his mouth back closer to the phone. “Anyway, yeah, we’ve been trying to get him out, but… he’s stubborn. You know?”

“I do.” Suddenly, Rob wished he hadn’t asked. _I should have just said happy birthday and that should have been it. Now I’ll have Mike in my head the rest of the day._ “It’s hard for all of us. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” He felt his anxiety spiking. He didn’t want to explain himself. He needed to get off the phone. He needed to get Chester and Mike out of his head. “Listen, Brad, I’m going to go. I just wanted you to know I love you. I hope you have a great birthday.”

Brad didn’t hesitate. “Thanks. You sound like you’re doing better. Take all the time you need, we’ll be here when you get back.” 

They said their goodbyes and Rob crossed his arm over his eyes, breathing deeply again. It felt dishonest not to tell Brad that he knew why Mike was struggling so much more than the rest of them. Where they had all lost a brother, Mike had lost a lover, and the future had become unthinkable overnight. They were all looking for answers to questions they were afraid to ask, sitting around Mike’s dining table trying to piece together who they were without Chester. He thought of all those conversations that had taken place in the days and weeks after Chester passed. At some point Rob realized Mike was clinging so desperately to the band because Linkin Park was what he had left that he could admit to publicly. Mike saw the band as his connection to a relationship with Chester. He had Chester only in the public eye, his arm around him every night, his smiles in interviews, his shared space in vans and hotels and backstage. It was the public relationship between the two frontmen that Linkin Park signified, and since he couldn’t admit to their private relationship, the band was all he had left. 

It was that public relationship that made Rob wonder if he’d ever be able to sit behind the drum set for Linkin Park again. He didn’t know if he’d be able to watch Mike try to carry them on his own, knowing how much that would hurt. He didn’t know if he could set aside his own bitter feelings that things had changed for them all. It was true that he missed playing. It was true that he missed the guys. But the show they had done without Chester had only been a cruel reminder of all they had lost. Rob didn’t know if he could relive that trauma every night they took the stage without Chester. He didn’t know if he could continue to bury his feelings for Mike when he wanted more than anything to take him in his arms. He wanted to comfort him, to feel Mike hold him back. He wanted to tell Mike that he understood how hard it was to let go of the past, but that they could build a new future together. The two of them, _and_ the band. The problem now was, he just didn’t know what that would look like, or what to say to Mike to even start that conversation. How did he open a conversation that started with _I know you still love Chester_ and ended with _give me a chance to make you smile again_ after all they had been through?

Rob understood Mike more than the other guys ever would, unless Mike decided to come clean. He didn’t expect that to happen. Rob was back in his pit of self-pity as he imagined the guy’s reactions to the news of Mike and Chester’s affair. That would be enough to digest. Adding on top that he and Mike were in love would push everyone over the edge. _But we aren’t in love. I’m in love. But Mike is mourning. Which makes me a sick person. I’m in mourning, too. But it’s different. And it’s not an opportunity. You’re a sick individual, Rob. Leave Mike alone._

None of his thoughts were making sense anymore, and it all felt like too much again. That was how he’d ended up on the bed in Portugal in the first place, just trying to get away and put his thoughts and his life in order. Keeping himself from telling Mike his feelings. It was bad timing, tacky, cruel timing, and he knew it. Being on the other side of the world was the only thing keeping him from telling Mike the truth. He might be in Portugal for months. 

Until he’d called Brad, Rob was starting to feel even-keeled. Like his feet were on the ground, like he was living again. Now he felt pulled under, and surfing wasn’t even an option. 

_That’s why I’m here. To get away. All it takes is one five minute call to Brad and I’m sucked in again. Right back in that place. And it’s ridiculous to even think we could have a future together. If Chester was a secret, I would never be more. He’s got Anna. He should focus on Anna and the kids. On the outside looking in, Mike Shinoda has a textbook perfect life. What would we have together? Grief and memories and more secrets. I’d make him unhappy. I’m not Chester. Thinking he would ever want me is ridiculous._

Rob tried to steer his inner monologue back to something more positive, but he was stuck on Mike. Mike, the way he was on July nineteenth. Mike, with the sparkle in his eyes. Mike, and the way he threw his head back to laugh at whatever Chester said. Mike, so passionately creative, so dedicated to their work. Mike, with his long fingers and his sensual lips. Mike, back when he had everything, before their whole world changed. _Stop. Focus your mind somewhere else. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

It took him the rest of the afternoon to pull himself together enough to get out of bed again. He unplugged his cell phone and put it in a drawer for the battery to slowly die. There would be no more impulsive phone calls home, not until he was sure he could handle his emotions. 

****  
TBC


	5. About You

A lonely Chanukah in Rob’s small Portugal flat came and went, along with Christmas, and then the New Year. 2018 came, despite the world feeling as though it had collapsed around him last July 20th, and Rob watched with amazement as the sun rose on a new year. 2017 was in the past, and despite his escape from L.A., he felt no closer to moving forward. He didn’t want to go back home and face the realities waiting for him. The thought was less crippling than it had been a few weeks earlier, but still distressing enough to send him into a panic attack if he wasn’t careful. Mindful. Aware that making everything about Chester was unhealthy. 

But the world kept spinning, and January progressed, causing him to dread the next milestone on the calendar. His thirty-ninth birthday was fast approaching, and Rob was no more motivated to celebrate that day than any other date that had passed. It wasn’t that he was moving through life in a fog. Rob had simply made a decision to disengage from anything that took him away from simple thoughts of the life he was living, the beach and the waves that made up the bulk of his days. 

His birthday was a day he normally would have been surrounded by friends. Years when they weren’t on tour, Rob would take his mother to lunch and buy her flowers. When he was younger, the guys would get together and go to a bar. Or a strip club. Rob remembered Chester in both places with the type of wistfulness that erased the drunken mistakes and replaced them with an idyllic recollection of camaraderie. He didn’t think about nights they’d watched Chester get black out drunk, or high, or engage in some risky behavior. That was all before the very firm _no drinking, no drugs_ stance they took during Chester’s divorce from Samantha. Birthdays after that were tame - Chinese food and pool, or backyard cookouts, or vegan cupcakes on the road. Rob couldn’t imagine not getting a call from Chester at some ungodly hour of the morning, singing _Happy Birthday_ with gusto. So he tried to ignore the date as it crept closer, as the Earth kept turning and the days moved uneventfully from one to the other on the backs of pink sunsets that always, always reminded him of Chester.

On January twentieth, Rob woke up in the cool darkness and stared at the ceiling. He knew he should call someone. Brad, maybe, or Dave. He hadn’t talked to the bassist even once since he’d been in Portugal. He lay there and his thoughts turned to Mike and the way he always slapped a jovial hand to Rob’s shoulder and pulled him into a happy birthday hug. He thought about Joe. Then he thought about his mother and it became obvious what he should do. If he’d been home, he would be taking her to lunch. But he wasn’t home, and so the person Rob Bourdon wanted to talk to most on his thirty-ninth birthday was his mother. He would call his mother.

He got out of bed and pulled the blankets back into place before he dug the dead phone and the charger out of the drawer it had lived in since Brad’s birthday. Six weeks had passed, and he hadn’t needed it once. He plugged it in to charge and went about his morning routine. The shower was quick and hot, then he tidied up a bit, assessing the waves from his balcony with his coffee. It looked like it would be an excellent surfing day, and his spirits lifted at the thought of getting out on the waves. Rob enjoyed each slow sip of his coffee on the balcony before he walked down to the corner, to Santiago’s produce stand. It had become his favorite, and the Portugal native knew his name after weeks of daily visits. It was comforting to only be the _American Rob_ and not _Linkin Park’s Rob_. The thing he appreciated most about his new life in Portugal was the fact that this small coastal village kept his secrets well.

Rob spent most of the rest of his birthday on the water. The winds were perfect, the ocean waves strong, and by the time he was finished every part of his body was worn out and thoroughly exhausted, his muscles burning. There was something empowering about dominating the water the way he could, knowing that a lapse in concentration or skill could be deadly. It focused his mind, kept his thoughts off of Mike, and cleansed his soul. His daily workout on the ocean had him more cut than he had been in years - his abs chiseled, his arms and shoulders strong, his thighs powerful against the rise and fall of the waves. It was physically and mentally taxing, and Rob was grateful for the hours of peace afforded to him while mastered the ocean and rode his surfboard into shore again and again. 

When he finally emerged from the water, sand clinging to his wetsuit and his hair in wet strings around his face, he felt emotionally ready to reconnect with home. Of all the people he could talk to, his own mother had seemed to be the least likely to trigger his anxiety and guilt, but it hadn’t gone that way, not at all. 

“Hi, mom,” Rob said, stepping out onto the balcony in sweatpants and a hoodie, his feet bare and his hair damp from the shower. “Happy birthing day,” he teased, a joke from decades ago, when he was just a child.

“Oh, Robbie! It’s so good to hear your voice!”

Instantly, a guilty feeling floated over Rob’s mind at the joy in his mother’s voice, the peace he’d found on the water waning slightly. He should have called much sooner. “How are things?” he asked as he watched the light breeze ripple over the fabric of his wet suit draped over the balcony railing.

From there the conversation was ninety percent his mother talking about his brother, his wife and kids, and then his dad. She rambled about the country club they belonged to, the women she played tennis and bridge with, and a few local politics that Rob wasn’t interested in and never had been. It felt like she was talking about anything and everything out of nervousness, and Rob let her continue until she stopped, having clearly reached the end of small talk subjects she could think of at the moment.

“Well, thanks for catching me up,” he offered in his patient voice, pushing his hair away from his face. “You’re so informative I feel like I can stay out here surfing for another six weeks. You’ll be able to tell me everything I need to know next time I call.” 

There was a pause, and Rob heard his mother sigh. He could imagine the way she would be twisting her fingers into the long strands of whatever necklace she was wearing. It had been a habit as long as he’d known her, a nervous habit she’d picked up at some point in her life, and he couldn’t even picture his mother’s sweet face without jewelry around her neck for her to play with. As a child he’d sat on her lap and counted pearls, beads, and links, twisted the necklaces between his own fingers until he’d gotten too big to sit on her. “I can practically hear you twisting your necklace,” he teased lightly, afraid of what she was holding back from him. “What is it, mom?”

“Robbie, are you doing okay?” his mother asked, the concern she’d been trying to hide seeping into her tone. “It worries me that you won’t talk to anyone. Dave’s been going over to your house to check on things but says he hasn’t talked to you. And he ran into Greg Delson a few weeks back who told him Brad hadn’t talked to you either. I just want to know that you’re okay.”

Rob closed his eyes and nodded, even though he knew his mother couldn’t see him. Of course they would all be talking about him. He and his brother Dave had grown up with the Delson’s. Their families were friends. “I’m better. I just needed to get away for a while. It was too much. You know…” he let his voice trail off, unable to say anything else. As close as he was with her, Rob had never discussed the dynamics of the relationships within Linkin Park with her, and didn’t feel like trying to even skim through the top of that information now. 

“I know. It know it’s been hard on all of you boys.” There was another hesitation before she said, “I don’t know if I should tell you this or not.”

Rob felt the prickle of apprehension along his skin and sat up a little straighter, his eyes opening to look at the ocean. He focused on the crest of a wave out as far as he could see and watched it as it came closer. “What is it?”

“It’s old news now, really, you might already know.” Patty Bourdon stumbled over her words as Rob waited anxiously. “About Mike? About the music Warner is putting out in a few days?”

The words slammed into Rob’s chest like he’d run full force into a brick wall. He struggled to catch a breath. “What? New music? No, no I didn’t already know.” His mind was a whirlwind of instant thoughts that were impossible to sort through. Cutting off communication with home meant he’d cut ties with everything, including the label. “Wait. You said Mike. Just Mike?”

He heard his mother hum her affirmation nervously. “That’s what Brad told your brother. And then it was all over the news for a day or two. He’s got three songs coming out, an EP.” She didn’t say anything else as Rob processed the information. “I really thought you’d already know, Robbie.”

“I haven’t talked to Mike in months,” Rob answered, his throat growing tight. “I just… felt like we needed some space, to come to terms with things.” He looked down and picked at the knee of his joggers with his free hand. “New music. Wow,” he said softly. When he left, he knew the guys were talking about putting out a live album from the _One More Light_ tour, and Rob had just nodded his approval and told Mike to do what he thought was best. Rob realized now he had no idea if the label had put that album out or not, and he wanted to know.

He didn’t listen to anything else, just waited patiently for his mother to tell him happy birthday again, and beg him not to wait so long to check in the next time. Rob made sure to agree, and to say _I love you_ before they disconnected. He was already moving inside from the balcony before they said goodbye, and now he found himself on the bed, trying to calm his thoughts with techniques he’d almost perfected in the past two months. 

He knew not to lay down, but instead sat on the edge of the bed, his palms braced against his thighs, staring out the window in a meditative trance. The ocean stretched out in front of him as far as he could see, and the temptation was there to take his surf board back out and disappear for a few hours. As tired as his body was, it would have been foolish to go back out on the water, and Rob knew it would be deadly. He fought with himself, balancing his need for escape with his need to talk to Mike. 

Nearly three months had passed since Rob had last seen him. Three months of trying not to wonder if Mike was worse than he’d been when Rob was still in L.A. Three months trying not to feel guilty he’d abandoned Mike at a time he needed his friends close. Rob had enough presence of mind back then to know he couldn’t help Mike if he was a mess, too, and putting distance between them had been the only solution he could think of to potentially make things better. But it had become clear as listened to his mother tell him about the new music that Mike had figured out how to survive. Not only was he surviving, he’d been writing - making music - without the rest of them. Rob didn’t know if he was in awe of his friend or angry at being left out, despite his decisions being the ones that took him out the equation of Mike’s music making.

 _I’m going to have to go home. Even if it’s just for a few days. I need to see him, all of them. I think I can do it. I think I can go home and still be in control of myself. I think I’m better now. Better than I was. I think I am._

He watched the waves as they came closer to shore, the way they got smaller and then lapped up onto the sand. There was a restlessness in his hands and feet that he’d tried not to think about while he’d been in Portugal. He felt the absence of drumsticks and a kick pedal acutely as thought after thought turned back to Mike and the mysterious new music.

_What are the songs about? Are they about Chester? Isn’t everything about Chester now? Is Mike eating enough? What about sleep? How are things with Anna? Has he been holed up in the studio ever since I left? Will he even want to talk to me?_

Rob had never been one to pace when he was anxious, but now he absolutely had to get up and move around while he tried to figure out what to do next. Going home was a scary thought. It was good to be away, to be alone, to not have to monitor what he did or said to anyone else the past few months. He’d allowed himself the time and space to feel the shock and anger, the grief of losing Chester. Being away from Mike had helped him sort through all the feelings he had, to stop blaming both Mike and himself for what had happened.

 _We will never know why Chester made the decision he made. It could have had something to do with Mike, it could have just as easily had nothing to do with Mike._ He grabbed the front door key and slid it into his pocket, heading for the beach but wisely leaving his surfboard behind. It was his sacred place, the sound of the waves bringing peace to his heart the closer he got to the ocean’s edge. He rolled up the bottom of his jeans, then kicked off his shoes, picking them up as he sunk his toes into the wet sand. The first footstep whispered _Mike_ and the next whispered _Chester_ , and Rob wondered if he would ever utter Mike’s name without linking it to their vocalist, or if everything would always come back to the one they had lost. 

He walked along, feeling the salty spray of the ocean air on his skin, his hair occasionally blowing across his face and getting stuck behind his glasses. He sighed and slipped them off, letting the world go out of focus. He didn’t need to see anyway. The sky was overcast now and the light from the sun fading as it sank lower into the ocean, obscured behind a veil of low hanging gray clouds. In his mind, Rob kept picturing Mike in his home studio, stubbornly working on music alone. Shutting out everyone around him, the way Rob had shut everyone out when he left them all behind. 

That stubborn focus was the driving force behind Mike piecing together the tribute show that Rob had resented so much at the time… that single minded determination, that drive and the raw need to do _something_ to honor his lover. Rob had endured it all quietly. Every word Mike spoke for the months leading up to that show was flat and hollow, and the others had only nodded along, pacifying the emcee, never seeming to notice Mike was _different._

_We’re all different now. But Mike was broken. I couldn’t bear seeing him like that. If I go home, if he’s still at the bottom of his well of grief, I don’t know if I can handle it. I don’t know if I can do it._ Rob felt the anxiety trying to bubble up and he breathed in through his nose as he walked slowly, listening to the ocean. 

_You have to go. You have to try._

Rob could have sworn the thought came spoken in Chester’s voice, as clearly as if his friend had been walking on the beach with him. Reflexively he turned his head, looking at the empty spot on the sand next to him, imagining Chester at his side. “You want me to go take care of him?” Rob asked the air quietly. “What if he doesn’t want me, Chester? Then what?”

_He needs someone. Why can’t it be you?_

He walked out a little further into the water, feeling the tide swirl around his toes. _I’m not emotionally equipped to handle it, Chester. No more than he was emotionally equipped to handle you. What if I make the mistakes he made? He’s fragile._

Rob stopped, digging his toes into the wet sand a little deeper. Fragile wasn’t a word he’d ever used to describe Mike. Not until Chester was gone. _I might make it worse. But I won’t know until I go. You’re right about that. I can always come back here, I can always escape again._

The thought of leaving Portugal tore at his insides. Part of him wanted to see Mike, to tell him it was all going to be fine, that they were all going to make it though to the other side of the overwhelming grief they were feeling. Part of him only wanted to go home to hear the music Mike had created, to get inside his head, to figure out where Mike’s thoughts were. Part of him wanted to just forget about it all and spend the rest of his days learning Portuguese and surfing, forgetting the life he’d had in Linkin Park. Forgetting Mike.

Rationally, Rob knew that hiding in Portugal forever would be wrong. He owed it to his brothers to go back, to help navigate the waters, even if they all ultimately decided that Linkin Park was in the past. Even if Mike never told the others about his affair with Chester. _And even if we can never, ever be together._ The thought was sharp and painful, but Rob met it head on this time instead of pushing it away. He had to put aside those unresolved feelings for Mike and be a friend, even if it hurt. Even if he wasn’t sure he could do it. 

_It’s time to go see Mike,_ he realized, gathering every ounce of strength he had as he turned back toward the flat. In a snap decision, he decided he’d leave everything behind, just as he did when he left L.A. He had until the end of the month to decide if he was coming back. _Surely in ten days I’ll know. Ten days to decide whether to pay for another month or let it all go. Ten days to decide if Mike wants me around._

Rob could almost hear Chester’s satisfied whisper of approval as he tossed a change of clothes in his backpack to go to airport first thing in the morning. 

****  
TBC


	6. Brooding

The flight back to Los Angeles landed at six pm local time, which meant for Rob, fatigue had set in hours ago. It felt like two am the next day, but he couldn’t rest yet. He sat on a bench at LAX and waited for his brother’s white BMW to pull up to the curb and take him home, another hour away. He’d heard the surprise in Dave’s voice when he answered his phone to hear Rob on the line, asking for a ride. Rob knew he’d be sitting on the bench for at least another forty-five minutes. Dave Bourdon’s house wasn’t close to LAX, and for a moment, Rob regretting calling his brother instead of an Uber.

 _Oh well. We need to talk, anyway. Maybe he’ll do most of the talking._ Rob almost cracked a smile as he looked out of the sea of cars weaving in and out of the multiple pick up lanes, honking at each other. _Of course he will. He always has. He’s the talker of the two of us, that’s for sure._

He watched the traffic and all of the people getting into the various cars, quickly assigning character traits to them as they passed through his life in mere seconds. As a child he sat and silently watched people everywhere; restaurants, doctor’s offices, schools… anywhere there were too many unknown people triggering his social anxiety. He could entertain himself for hours making up stories about their lives, and why they were out and about. Something about creating a life for stranger made them less… strange. It was a game that worked well for him when _Linkin Park’s_ fame grew and he found himself increasingly put in situations that caused his heart rate to spike and his palms to sweat. Left to his own devices, he would have hidden behind his drum set and never said a word to anyone.

 _But Mike was so insistent about meeting the fans. All of us, not just Chester._ Rob could hear Mike’s voice in his head, coaxing him out of dressing rooms, promising to sit beside him. _Come on, Bourdie, I’ll be right there next to you. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to._ He could remember the way Mike would give him that million watt Mike Shinoda grin while they signed autographs, their knees knocking together, until Chester would lean over and whisper something in Mike’s ear, pulling his attention away. Then Rob would smile shyly at whoever was next in line and scribble his name, all while trying not to hear Mike and Chester giggling and chatting away with each other and the fans. 

It had always been easier to ignore the loneliness he felt in their presence if he was occupied thinking about something else. Over the years he’d assigned entire lives to people he would never see again. It made everyone less of an unknown and somehow easier to be around, and Rob had never fallen out of the practice.

By the time Dave finally rolled up to the curb, he’d watched countless people come and go. Rob picked his backpack up and carried it by the small handle on the top to his brother’s car. There was a line of impatient vehicles behind Dave’s BMW, and he didn’t waste any time opening the door and stooping over to get inside. The backpack went to the floor and Rob shut the door, pulling his seatbelt on and clicking it into place as Dave cursed the flow of taxi and Uber drivers cutting into the lanes around him. Rob looked down at his hands and let his brother deal with the traffic on his own. Neither of them said a word until Dave was back on the interstate, and even then, it wasn’t Rob who spoke first. 

“Well, welcome back,” Dave finally offered, giving Rob a sideways glance. “A little more notice would have been nice.” He looked into his rearview mirror and then back out in front of the car.

“It was a last minute decision,” Rob admitted quietly. “Talked to mom yesterday.”

Dave nodded his head. “She told me. You have no idea how thrilled she was that you called. I’ve had to hear it from her every time I’ve called her lately. Oh, and happy birthday.” He didn’t say anything else, and Rob looked out the passenger window.

“Sorry about that. You know how it was. It was easier to just go instead of listening to her talk. She didn’t know what to say. Still doesn’t.” They weren’t moving through the city very quickly, which was fine with Rob. He hadn’t quite talked himself into going to see Mike tonight. The longer it took to get to his place, the later it would be, and the less pressure he would feel to just get it over with. 

It was clear Dave didn’t know what to say either, and the two of them lapsed into silence again. The rest of the drive was quiet, Dave navigating the traffic and Rob brooding over things as the radio played in the background. Even having made the decision to come back to L.A., he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to face Mike or the reality of their situation. _Whatever that situation is… I don’t even know what the five of us are doing. I don’t know anything about this music or what he’s thinking._

Rob was deep in thought, trying to decide if he could casually ask his brother if he knew anything about the other guys, when the familiar sound of the piano at the beginning of _In the End_ filtered faintly through the SUV speakers. Reflexively his hand shot out to change the station before they heard Chester’s iconic _"it starts with one"_ opening line, and Dave jumped in his seat at the sudden movement.

“Damn, Rob!” he exclaimed, taking his eyes off the road to give his brother a glare. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“I’m sorry, I- I-,” Rob spluttered, his throat closing up with anxiety. _I can’t listen to it. I don’t want to hear it._ He hadn’t listened to Chester’s voice in over five months, and the thought was overwhelming. 

Dave reached over and put his hand on Rob’s arm. “It’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting you to freak out. But I get it, it’s okay.” He rubbed his palm up and down Rob’s shirt. “You wouldn’t believe how much radio play you guys have been getting ever since Chester died.”

The words felt like cold water had been splashed in Rob’s face. He turned wide eyes to his brother, processing what he’d said. “The old stuff?” he asked, trying to understand. “They’re still doing that?” He wanted to add that the weeks right after Chester passed had been hell, that turning on the radio was an impossibility, but he knew he didn’t need to. Dave had been around for all of that.

“Yeah, it hasn’t slacked off much. Especially now with Mike’s new stuff coming out. There’s so much hype over that, the stations can’t stand it. They’re promoting the hell out of it.”

There it was, the open door for Rob to walk through and find out about Mike, about the band. “What do you know about that? Mike’s stuff?” he tried to ask casually, reaching to adjust his glasses. He saw his brother shrug from the corner of his eye before he changed lanes.

“Brad told me about it. Mike’s been writing, wanted to put out some music on his own, just for the fans, to connect with them and stuff. He said Warner shut Mike down, told him he wasn’t putting anything out without their approval.” Dave took the exit toward Rob’s neighborhood, his hand moving back to the steering wheel. “From what I gathered, Mike was pretty upset about that.”

 _For the fans._ It sounded one hundred percent like something Mike would do. “He’s always been big on fan engagement,” Rob mumbled, suddenly feeling a little numb. The idea that Mike had written music just to reach out to people who didn’t even know him was concerning. It meant Mike wasn’t getting what he needed from his family, from his friends, from the band. He needed support and wanted it from people who weren’t even close to him. _Part of that is my fault. I left. And nobody understands. Nobody gets how he’s feeling but me. Nobody else knows._

He closed his eyes and sighed, the thought to switch back to their song coming right on the heels of his guilt. Maybe he’d been avoiding the truth long enough. Chester wasn’t coming back, and Rob had left Mike trying to cope on his own. _I’m going tonight. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. I need to see him._

“Flip it back,” he said quickly before he could change his mind. “What station was it on?” Rob opened his eyes and pointed at the radio. “Dave, put it back!” he cried urgently. His brother didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, and Rob reached over, turning the radio up and letting the sound of Mike’s voice, his second verse, fill the car. Rob braced himself for Chester, his body tense as he waited, and he was surprised when the voice he’d heard through his in-ears for years didn’t cause his heart to seize up or uncontrollable tears to fall. He sat and listened, unaware of the twitches in his hands and feet that went along with the parts he’d drummed for so long. It was always strange to be on the listening side to something he’d performed ad nauseam.

It was over quickly, and Rob turned the volume back down. “That’s the first time I’ve tried to listen to any of it since the show we did at the Bowl,” he admitted. “When I was in Portugal, it was like the band didn’t even exist. Nobody in that village knew me. I was just me. You know?”

Dave looked over at him and rolled his eyes. “You’ve always just been Rob to me. Just my older brother. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to go through what you guys have been through in the past few months. And I know Mom doesn’t get it, but I never faulted you for going.” He blew out a breath and looked ahead at the road again. “Was it what you needed? Do you feel any better?”

Rob thought that over for a while, and Dave let him ponder things in silence for the rest of the drive. Most of his time in Portugal had been solitary, and he had enjoyed it for what it was - an escape from reality. Eventually he admitted, “I’m not sure.” It was true. There were many days he’d felt better while he was away, but also days that were despairing. Thinking about Mike usually made those low feelings worse. “There’s so many things I don’t know still. Things I won’t have any idea about until I see Mike. I was thinking of going over tonight. Not sure how that will go.” He stopped uncertainly. Mike had been so broken before he left, and the memory of when he called, when he told Mike that he knew about the affair with Chester, was difficult. 

“I’m sure he’ll just be happy you’re back,” his brother offered as he navigated up the driveway and stopped in front of Rob’s garage. “You want some company?” Dave Bourdon asked, knowing full well that his brother typically wanted his space to be alone.

Reaching for his backpack, Rob steadied himself on the dashboard and looked out the windshield at the house. Everything looked the same, and that was its own comfort. “No, I’ll be fine,” he answered softly. “Thanks for the ride, Dave. If you don’t mind, let me tell Mom I’m back. I’ll go over tomorrow.”

With a skeptical eyebrow raise, Dave finally nodded his agreement. “Don’t stay out too late,” he teased as he watched Rob exit the vehicle. All he got in response was an absent nod, and Dave only waited until Rob fished out his keys and opened the front door. He’d known his brother his entire life. There wasn’t anyone he knew that needed alone time the way Rob did, and he’d grown up understanding that when his brother shut his bedroom door, you tiptoed down the hallway if you needed to get by. It had always amazed him that the introverted brother he knew had become part of one of the biggest rock bands in the world. 

Rob heard the BMW pull away and he walked in the house, entering his code at the keypad of his alarm and listening as the system disarmed. Everything smelled stale, stuffy, and he was struck by just how long he’d been gone. _It didn’t seem like it had been a long time while I was there. But I guess it was. Maybe longer than we were ever on tour._ He pondered how long the longest tour had been as he walked around, checking over everything. It was unsettling, how everything was exactly as he had left it months ago. It was as though time had stopped while he was in Portugal, though he knew it hadn’t. _Mike’s new music is evidence of that. The world kept spinning. Everything kept going while I was riding waves. I should have been here for him._

He took his time checking over everything, trying to come up with a plan to let Mike know he was back. _And that I’m sorry._ Ultimately he decided just to drive over and knock on the door. _No sense in calling, setting it all up. I’ll just go over and everything will be fine. He’ll let me in. He always has._

It was another forty-five minutes to Mike’s, but Rob had missed driving his Range Rover while in Portugal. He didn’t mind the drive as the expensive hand-stitched leather cradled his large frame, another source of comfort that he’d missed. He had to admit, he had a cushy life, despite trying to stay somewhat minimalist and down to earth. It was impossible to be a multi-millionaire and not indulge in some creature comforts, though he’d always tried to stay low-key. 

Instead of fatigue, Rob’s adrenaline had spiked and his nerves were on alert as he drove his car onto the Shinoda property. As he got closer he noticed Mike’s house was dark, and for a moment Rob considered turning around and going back home. _But it wouldn’t hurt to check. Just to be sure. If he’s not here, I’ll catch him tomorrow._ He stopped at the apex of the circle drive and turned off the Range Rover, inhaling deeply. So much was riding on these first moments of reunion, and he could feel his heart beating a little faster as he thought about all of the possible reactions that could come from Mike. All he wanted was to take Mike in his arms and hold him, but the fear of rejection would keep him from making a move like that. _Even though it’s not a move. It’s friendly. We've hugged thousands of times._

Rob made his way up the sidewalk. The shrubs were carefully sculpted by the Shinoda’s gardener, the little lights on the path twinkling brightly. If Mike was home, he already knew that Rob was coming up the walk. There were multiple levels of security around the property, and cameras that alerted the occupants inside every time someone crossed the perimeter. Before Rob got to the front door, an outside light flipped on, and Rob squinted against the sudden illumination. He only knocked once before the door opened.

Mike was in ratty paint splattered joggers and an ancient _Run DMC_ t-shirt, his facial hair scruffy under Rob’s seeking gaze. He lifted his hand and scrubbed over his hair, staring at Rob as though he were an apparition. “You’re back, then,” he said hoarsely, and his cheeks flushed as his voice cracked. “It’s about time.” He moved back, holding the door open, wordlessly inviting Rob inside.

A feeling of relief washed over Rob, dropping the tension he didn’t even know he’d been carrying in his shoulders, as he stepped inside Mike’s house. It was familiar, a home he’d visited so many times in the past ten years the Shinoda’s had lived there, but this time felt different. He couldn’t quite place the change as he looked around. It felt clean, as always, but the darkness kept him from seeing much of the downstairs.

“I was in the garage when I got the notification,” Mike said, shutting the door behind them. “I didn’t expect it to be you. I was surprised to see your car in the drive.”

“I just flew back this afternoon.” Rob adjusted his glasses. Despite the lights being off, he could see enough to follow Mike into the kitchen. Mike hit the light switch and the gray and white kitchen came to life, spotlessly clean. Rob watched him head to the built-in liquor cabinet and snag the bottle of scotch whiskey from the top shelf. He didn’t have to say that a drink sounded great. Mike was already putting ice in two lowball cut crystal glasses that looked like something that might have been a wedding present fourteen years ago.

“I’ve been trying not to drink so much,” Mike offered conversationally as he poured two glasses of scotch. “I think it all changed the night I had too much and told Anna about the affair.” He was talking casually, as though Rob had never left and the bombshell he was dropping wasn’t huge. “She took the kids. They’re at my in-laws. Have been for weeks. We’re getting divorced, Bourdie. I can’t take the lies anymore and neither can she.”

Rob was stunned, sinking down onto the barstool next to him as he stared at Mike. Anna leaving was quite possibly the last thing Rob had expected to hear so matter-of-factly from Mike tonight. “So you’ve been here all alone?” he whispered, taking the glass when Mike slid it across the bar. “I’m sorry, Mike. I really am. I should have been here.”

“Or called, maybe.” Mike agreed, knocking back the double shot without preamble. “So, I told the guys. Nothing to lose, right? Everyone knows.” He looked down into his empty glass and reached for the bottle, shaking his head as a dark, bitter bark of a laugh escaped. “Well, not everyone. The label doesn’t fucking know. Ridiculous, right? I wrote an entire album about him. Every fucking song. Everything in my head, it’s about him, and how he fucking left me behind. And all they can see is dollar signs.”

Rob held the crystal glass in both hands. It made sense, the change in the way the house felt. Mike was alone. The sights and sounds that accompanied three children and his wife were no longer present. “I don’t know what to say, Mike. I heard you had an EP coming out. I didn’t know it was a whole album.” He watched Mike pour another drink, but to his relief, the other man just stared down into the glass.

“Yeah, it’s eighteen songs. _Eighteen_ , Bourdie. Just like that. He’s only been gone six months.” Mike lifted tear filled eyes to Rob and shook his head again. “And everything is different. I think… I think I’m finally starting to realize that. Which sounds stupid. It’s been different ever since…” His voice trailed off and he sat down his glass as Rob stood up and rounded the bar.

“Come here,” Rob husked, pulling Mike close to him. He felt Mike’s arms slide around his waist and then Mike’s breath on his neck. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply as he rubbed his hands up and down Mike’s back. “It’s going to be okay, Mike.” Rob Bourdon was a man of few words, and this moment was no exception. He let Mike cry silently into his shirt for what felt like forever, and then Mike stepped back, using the sleeves of his t-shirt to clumsily wipe his eyes.

“You just left, how could you?” Mike accused, his voice rough from tears. “Where the fuck did you even go?” Words he wanted to say but couldn’t stuck in his throat. _My whole life fell apart, and you weren’t here. I needed you, I needed your strength and you left. I’m tired of being left behind._

“Portugal. I just… I couldn’t cope.” Rob wanted to reach for Mike again, but instead he reached across the bar for his drink, downing it neatly. “I couldn’t see you so broken, Mike, knowing I couldn’t do anything. I thought about you every day,” he added, wondering if he was saying too much already. “I should have been here for you. I’m sorry.” Rob swallowed hard, wondering if Mike would even care about his apology. 

Mike sniffed a few times and rubbed his face again. Rob could see just how exhausted his friend looked. “I don’t know what will happen next. I’ve been sitting and painting, thinking. _So much thinking._ Wondering what will happen next. Wondering where you are, wondering who I even am without him.” He turned away from Rob and stared into the dark dining area. “And this music is what came out. Warner pulled some legal bullshit on me and talked me into releasing it officially, and all I wanted to do was tell everyone how much I loved him. Without saying it. Not that it matters. Everyone who matters knows. Even Talinda. Anna told her.”

Rob stood very still, listening. He was a good listener. He always had been. And in this situation, he didn’t know how to respond. 

“So here we are. Just a couple of days away from these songs coming out. And I’ve been thinking, what will it be like if this album turns into something? It’s all me, Bourdie. Are they going to make me tour? How am I going to do that without him, without you guys?” Mike turned back to the bar and picked up his drink. “What now?”

They looked at each other for a long minute before Mike swallowed his second drink, barely wincing at the burn as it went down. Rob adjusted his glasses again and looked at Mike more carefully. His disheveled appearance, the bags under his eyes, his uncharacteristically thin features and the sadness behind his eyes. All he wanted to do was to take away that pain. “I don’t have all the answers, but I’m here, Mike. You don’t have to be alone. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Just like that, he knew he wouldn’t be going back to Portugal. He’d just made a promise to see things through with Mike, even knowing how hard it would be to watch his friend try to navigate everything that was coming. Rob knew how things worked. The music would be released, and the label would start talking exposure, maybe tour dates. He didn’t know if Mike could handle it with support, but he knew for certain he couldn’t handle it alone. He reached out, dropping his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Come on. You need some rest. We’ll worry about Warner tomorrow. Let’s get you to bed.” 

Mike nodded, allowing Rob to lead him to the living room. They each settled onto one of the long sofas, and Rob pulled his glasses off to place them on the coffee table. Tonight wasn’t a night to leave. Tonight was a night to just be there, for whatever Mike might need.

Mike was asleep before Rob even set his glasses down, leaving the drummer to ponder what was coming next until he finally drifted into dreams. 

****  
TBC


	7. Promises I Can't Keep

It never mattered how quiet Mike tried to be in the middle of the night, Rob always heard him get up. It had been weeks now since his return from Portugal, and he had all but moved into the spare room in the Shinoda house. It was right across the hall from the studio, and despite the carefully constructed soundproofing, Rob heard every time when Mike went into the room.

He lay very still under the wine red blanket on the guest room bed, listening to Mike move around the upstairs. It was true; he’d never meant to stay for so long, for the guest closet to have his shirts hanging in it or for his pants to be folded in the dresser. He hadn’t meant for the en suite bathroom to hold his toothbrush, his shower supplies, or his clippers. He hadn’t meant for his bathrobe to find its way over to Mike’s to hang on the small hook next to the shower, or for his shoes to be in a neat line at the bottom of the closet. It had happened gradually and naturally while he tried to help Mike navigate his grief. While he stayed to be the support Mike needed instead of running away again.

Rob couldn’t leave him at the big house alone, not after Mike told him Anna left with the children. The night he came back from Portugal and they slept on the couches together, there hadn’t been much rest. Mike only slept in brief stints between restless dreams, and his tossing and turning kept Rob awake. When Mike finally gave up and went into the kitchen, Rob followed him. It was Rob’s idea to replace the whiskey with hot tea, and they sat at the breakfast table together in the darkness. He’d tried to gently tell Mike that drinking wasn’t going to bring Chester back.

 _Don’t you think I know that?_ Mike had answered him bitterly. _It’s the only way I can sleep. It’s the only way I can stop thinking about him long enough to get any rest, but then the dreams come._ There was a haunted, faraway look in Mike’s eyes. _We’d planned so much together, Bourdie. Things for the band, things for us… so many plans and promises, and now all I’m left with is regrets._

He wasn’t exactly babysitting Mike, but Rob couldn’t leave his friend alone, not now. Not knowing how everything had fallen apart the last time he left. And now Mike was awake again, and Rob sat up in the bed, pushing back his hair before he reached for his glasses. He took a moment to mentally prepare himself before got up.

It was hard, listening to Mike ramble about Chester in the middle of the night. Night time was when the secrets started to come out. Night time was when Rob learned that the affair had been going on far longer than he’d imagined. Night time was when Mike admitted the first time he’d kissed Chester was all the way back at a release party for Hybrid Theory. Night time was when Mike admitted how crushed Chester had been when he married Anna, right as things fell apart with Sam. Night time was when Rob learned how Mike had convinced Chester to record and tour _One More Light_. Night time was when all the guilt and anger came out. It seemed easier for Mike to talk under the cover of darkness.

It was chilly when he stood up from the bed, and Rob reached for his robe and slippers. He slid his long arms inside the robe, arranging his pajama shirt before he tied the belt and stuffed his feet into his sherpa lined slippers, then opened the bedroom door and listened. He was good at listening. The house was completely silent, and in that way he knew Mike was in the studio. He didn’t even knock after he took the four steps across the hallway to the studio door. He let himself in, and found Mike on the sofa, his head leaned back into the cushions and his fingers curled around a mug. _Good. It’s not whiskey._ “Hey,” he called softly from where he’d stopped at the corner of Mike’s desk. 

Mike didn’t look up. “I brought you a cup,” he answered, motioning toward the desk without looking. This same scenario had played out so many times Mike didn’t think twice about making his houseguest a second cup of tea. Even though he drank his with a teaspoon of honey, he knew Rob drank his with no sweetener and always brought it up to the studio that way. 

Rob looked over the lines of Mike’s body. He was just starting to look less wan, and Rob liked to think he had something to do with that. He’d been making Mike eat, trying to fill his body up with nutrients and vegetables, and he even dared to cook meat on occasion. Mike would eat anything placed in front of him, but left on his own he simply picked at junk. Rob had never seen his friend’s eating habits so deplorable in all the years they’d known each other. 

“Thanks.” He picked up the mug and went to sit down next to Mike, assuming the same position. He was tired, and their sleep schedules were both completely destroyed at this point. Rob knew Mike would talk when he was ready, or they would fall asleep together on the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time. Those were nights that Rob wished Mike would just come crawl in bed with him, nights that it felt obvious that all Mike needed was the comfort of another person’s body next to him. 

Logically he knew he didn’t want it to be that way. Rob didn’t want to be the recipient of Mike’s desire to not be lonely if there weren’t feelings between them. There would be nothing worse than allowing the next level of intimacy between them, only to find that Mike didn’t feel the way he did, or worse, was simply on the rebound. It didn’t seem like something Mike would do. He’d finally told Anna the truth to avoid that specific scenario. But Rob carefully kept his emotions on the other side of the line that Mike hadn’t crossed. If they ever crossed it, it could only be Mike’s choice.

“I was dreaming about him again,” Mike finally admitted quietly, lifting his head to take a sip of his tea. “It feels so real when it’s happening, like I can reach out and touch him. I can feel him here, in this room. That’s why I come in here.” His eyes flicked around the room, and Rob knew Mike was seeing the ghost of Chester everywhere. 

“Y’all spent a lot of time here,” Rob said carefully. The studio did have a different feel to it, now that Chester was gone. Haunted wasn’t the right word - Chester would never do anything to hurt them - but _occupied_ was a good way to describe it. The room felt heavy with the weight of Chester’s memory, and yet Rob understood why Mike couldn’t stay away. He and Chester weren’t finished. There were things Mike didn’t have closure on and probably never would. It was a depressing thought, when Rob lingered on it too long. He hated to think that Mike would never be able to put the tragic end of his affair behind him.

“We did,” Mike offered absently, his head falling back to the cushion again before he sighed and flipped his free hand in Rob’s direction. “I’m sorry I keep waking you up.” He replayed the memory of his dream over and over in his head, trying to separate what took place in his sleep from the memory of what had really happened with Chester. “We were fighting tonight.”

Rob looked over, his senses on alert at the way Mike was talking in the present tense.

“It was while we were making the last album. I told him he needed to go to rehab and he didn’t want to hear it.” Mike stopped and swallowed, then wiped away the tear that leaked from the corner of his eye. “We were in here trying to record and I knew he was drunk. Again. And we fought about it. He didn’t want to keep working and I did, and he coped by drinking. He could be nasty. He never said it, but his relapse was my fault. It was always my fault.”

“Was that your dream, or did that really happen?” Rob asked gently, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes it was hard to tell what Mike’s grieving mind was making up, and what was reality.

“Both.”

Rob reached over and took Mike’s hand. It felt cold to the touch. “You can’t blame yourself for his decisions, Mike.” Rob kept his voice quiet, soothing. This dream was more than a dream. Mike was reliving something that happened, that he wished he could change, and Rob wanted to say more, but he wasn’t sure what to say. That was how most of these late night conversations went, anyway. He always listened while Mike rambled, until he wore himself out.

“I just keep thinking, what could I have done differently? And I know, _I know_ the answer to that is… nothing. I know you’re right. I know that I can’t change what happened. I know that me loving him wasn’t enough.” Mike wiped away another tear, then another. Even though he was making progress, and he knew during the day some things were better, it seemed like losing Chester would never stop hurting so acutely. There was always something ripping the scab off the wound, and then the healing had to start all over again the next day.

Rob leaned forward and set his mug down, then took Mike’s and placed it on the table, too. He dropped their clasped hands to carefully put his arm around Mike’s shoulders and pull his friend over close to his side. It was a familiar embrace now, one that he felt Mike relax into quickly, though Mike’s body didn’t feel any warmer than his hand had felt a few seconds ago. Rob stroked his hand over Mike’s bicep in a slow, repetitive circle. “You can’t keep doing this, Mike. You’re torturing yourself. Do you think that’s what Chester would want? Do you think he’d want you to be miserable?”

These shadowed moments were the only times that Rob really felt angry about all that had happened, that Chester had decided to escape and leave them all to deal with the aftermath. He wished he had said something earlier, had told them he knew about their affair, had told Mike he knew Chester was struggling and that Mike was pushing too hard. He wished Chester hadn’t left them all to pick up the pieces, to wonder why. Anger was part of healing - he knew that - but hearing Mike’s despairing thoughts made a wisp of protectiveness flare inside him. He wanted to take it all away. He wanted to fix Mike, but only Mike could do that. It was frustrating, and it hurt that he felt so helpless, even after all these weeks together.

Mike squeezed his eyes closed. “It’s just at night, Bourdie,” he whispered. “It’s just so hard at night. He’s closer to me at night, in the dark. In the quiet. So much of what we had was in the dark. That’s when we promised each other the world. You know?” He bit his lips as he thought of silent dark hotel rooms, alone in secret, limbs tangled and hearts pounding, and all of the whispers and promises they’d made. Promises Mike would never be able to keep now. There were even promises that been made in this studio, in the dark, in the soundproofed vocal booth they’d made love in more times than Mike could count. 

Rob held Mike closer, turning his lips into Mike’s messy hair gently. The confessions pinched at his heart, but he shoved the feelings to the side, trying to provide the comfort he knew was so desperately needed. None of this was about him. “I know,” he whispered. “I know, Mike.”

Mike closed his eyes. It felt good to be held. Rob was solid next to him, and he appreciated the depth of their friendship. They had always been close, and that closeness was what made Rob’s disappearance weeks ago such a hard pill to swallow. That was all behind them now. “I knew releasing that EP was going to bring this all back,” he confessed, his eyes fluttering open to focus on his computer, “but I think I underestimated how hard it would be.”

If it had been hard on Mike, it had also been hard for Rob to watch the emotional rollercoaster as the first three songs of Mike’s album dropped. There were interviews, appearances, social media tags and questions, comments good and bad. Most of what he read from their fans on the few times he’d tried was understanding, but Rob knew all the exposure was tearing Mike up inside. “You’ve been brave, Mike. You put your emotions out there, and it’s helping people cope. It’s more than I can do. I can’t stand people being inside my head.”

“Because you’ve always been so private.” Mike snuggled his head closer to Rob’s chest and closed his eyes again. Rob was warm underneath his cheek, and he resisted the urge to rub his face against the soft robe and the hard muscle underneath it. “I know that’s one of the things that got to Ches. He loved being so open with the fans, but I know it got tiring, too. Always being on display. I was always able to skate the line, but now that he’s gone, it’s pushed me more to the front. I’m not sure if it’s helping or hurting things now.” The uncertainty of everything was so difficult. Mike had always been so sure of things. Then Chester was gone, and nothing made sense anymore.“Maybe you and Brad are right. Maybe it’s time to just… stop.”

Rob contemplated that for a minute. It was true, he and Brad were the definite holdouts when it came to anything happening with Linkin Park. “I never said stop forever, just for a little while. Until we can all make sense of what happened. And figure out how to move forward.” 

Mike didn’t say anything. The last time the five of them had been together, their future felt as hopeless to him as it had last November. It just wasn’t in him to sit still, to not create, to just… _stop._ That was where the artwork had come from. There was an incessant need, a constant desire to be doing _something_ , and Mike had found a way to work through things on his own.

But now it was becoming bigger than what he could paint in his garage, or piece together in the studio. Now there was music out there, and expectations, questions about what was next for him, and for Linkin Park. He couldn’t answer questions for anyone but himself. Mike hadn’t been actively trying to keep information from his bandmates, but the label had pulled him into meetings alone. Merchandising meetings, and promotional meetings. Now there were performance meetings, and he knew he needed to tell Rob, and all of the guys. Even though what was coming next was scary as hell, he couldn’t back away from it.

“I need to tell you something,” Mike started quietly, his heart racing. “I got asked to perform at Identity L.A. I haven’t decided if I’m going to do it yet.” Mike heard Rob suck in a slow breath. “I know you guys aren’t ready. I know I’d be doing it alone. And some days I think I can, and some days I can’t imagine it without him, without you guys. I don’t know if I’ll do it yet or not.”

Rob was quiet for a minute, thinking, before he finally decided, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You’re not obligated to anyone. Even the label.”

Mike nodded, his unkempt facial hair scraping against Rob’s robe. “There’s so many decisions coming at me. All I wanted to do was put the music out there. And they keep telling me I should promote it. It feels so fucking wrong to be making money off of it, but they put their spin on things… and I’m so confused.”

Silence fell over them again, and this time it felt uneasy. Profiting off of anything pertaining to Chester felt wrong. It had been a harsh dose of reality handed to them when the five were pulled into Warner, just two weeks after Chester died, to hear their team talk about the surge in the band’s interest. All Warner kept telling them was _”think of Talinda, think of the children. Every download, every merchandise sale benefits his family. Don’t you want that?”_ The five of them had talked in private later, gathered around Brad’s dining table, about corporate greed… ultimately deciding that if Chester’s family stood to gain from it all, they shouldn’t stand in the way. 

But this was different, and Rob knew that to Mike, the idea of making a single dime off of his grief felt wrong. He tried to get his thoughts in order before he spoke. “I think you need to do what you need to do to heal, Mike. Every decision, every step you make, either moves your progress forward, or moves it backwards. I know we’ve talked about it in meetings, and I know Brad might not ever want to be on stage again. I might never want to do it again, but I don’t know that for certain. It’s fucking scary.”

“It’s all scary.” Mike sniffed, and rubbed his eyes. 

“But you made an entire album,” Rob went on, “and you’re going to release it. So that tells me there’s something inside of you that wants to give it a try. I can tell. No matter what anyone says, it’s not wrong to want to go on. Whatever your reasons are, I know you won’t do anything without thinking it through from every angle. And if you want to go out there and perform those songs and shout your love for him out to the world, then I’ll support you. It might only be from backstage, but I’ll be there, Mike. I promise you… I’ll be there.”

Mike sighed softly. “Now you’re making promises in the dark. Promises in the dark matter just as much as promises in the day light, okay? Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Don’t tell me you’ll be backstage if you’re not. Don’t tell me you’re going to be there and then leave. Don’t do that to me again.”

A guilty feeling lodged in Rob’s chest. He thought they were past that, but maybe he’d underestimated how deeply it hurt when he disappeared. “I’m not going anywhere, Mike. I’m here as long as you need me.” Rob felt Mike’s hand snake over and tuck under his arm, holding him around the waist. “I promise you.” 

Mike nodded, and it felt like a little of the weight from his shoulders had been lifted. “Help me tell Brad,” he whispered. “I can’t do it alone.”

“I will.” Rob felt himself fighting fatigue as Mike’s body seemed to melt into his. He could feel their shared warmth, the heaviness of Mike’s body as he calmed enough to drift into sleep again. _I’ll stay awake until he falls asleep. In case he needs me again. It’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay, Chester. We’re all going to be okay._

****  
TBC


	8. Crossing a Line

Rob uncrossed his long legs and recrossed them again, tapping his foot against the side of the barstool next to him. It was uncharacteristic of him to feel restless, and even more so to show that restlessness. He’d just come from his house, where he’d checked on the property and paid some bills, before he arrived at Brad’s. He caught the guitarist sneaking glances at him from across the kitchen and rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Just wondering what you’re so worked up about,” Brad answered as he stuffed kale into the Vitamix before dropping two bananas on top. Blueberries, yogurt, and protein powder were already underneath the kale. Before Rob could answer, he pressed the button and together they watched as the ingredients blended into a purple smoothie that would taste more like grass than anything else. 

Brad released the button and reached for a glass while Rob watched the smoothie swirl to a stop. “Anxious to meet up with Mike later.” Rob looked down at his watch. “He’s probably already doing soundcheck.”

“I still don’t get it,” Brad mumbled quietly. “No idea how he’s planning to do all of that on his own.” He busied himself with pouring the smoothies and avoiding Rob’s eyes. He’d already spent weeks trying to figure out where Mike’s head was, but none of it made sense to him. 

The day they had a band meeting and Mike confessed what he was thinking about doing was clear in his mind; Brad had stood up and walked away for a few minutes, trying to process what Mike was telling them. It was hard not to take it as a slap in the face to what Mike had been saying all along- that they all needed to be on the same page to move forward. Playing gigs on his own, writing an entire album… those were all signs in Brad’s head that Mike was moving forward, with or without the four of them. Or that he was so far in denial that he didn’t see the rift in the band that his solo career could possibly create. 

In all of the worry and despair of the past several months, the one thing that had been constant among the band was their shared concern over Mike’s state of mind. Now they seemed to be pulling in two different directions; Phoenix and Joe jumping on the Mike Shinoda bandwagon of support, while he and Rob watched cautiously from the sidelines. 

“Honestly, I don’t know either,” Rob said, taking the smoothie from Brad when he passed it over. He poked the straw he’d been holding down into the glass, but just stirred it a little in thought. “But you know Mike. “He’s been very focused on these performances coming off just right.” It was true. The past few months, Mike had thrown himself into the meticulous planning of the live set the same way he always became lost in it when they were getting ready to tour. Except this time, he was trying to figure it out with Chester. 

Mike spent hours mixing and cutting, and remixing songs to give their fans what he thought they wanted, and what he was capable of providing. Rob knew Mike still wasn’t eating or sleeping enough, but his demeanor now seemed less like perpetual mourning, and more like a single minded focus on what was next. “You know he’s got it all planned out in his head. It’s been good for him. A distraction.”” 

Brad sipped the smoothie through his straw and leaned against the counter. “Well, he certainly needs that. But even when he first told us he was gonna do this, he didn’t exactly sound thrilled about it.” He scratched at the concave slope of his stomach lazily. “I know you guys must talk about it more, since you’re staying with him.” Brad quirked his eyebrow at Rob and waited.

The band had always been good about asking questions directly and not talking behind each other’s backs, but the concern over Mike had changed that in the last few months. Everyone seemed to turn to Rob for answers. He looked down into his smoothie and shrugged. “We talk. He was making all this music as an escape, and once Warner got wind of it, all of that changed. He’s having a hard time with that, Delson. He’s having a hard time with the fans, too. I know you and I don’t see much of that, and it makes me grateful every day I didn’t get into the twitter and instagram thing. It’s relentless, people reaching out to him and tagging him. He thinks they need to know that we’re still here, and we’re okay.”

“But it’s not _us_ , it’s him,” Brad argued lightly. “He made it really clear that he was going to do this without us. Which is fine.” He held up his hand to stop Rob’s response. “I didn’t want to perform, and you didn’t either. But Phi, and Joe, they were all in, ready to go. I don’t know, Bourdie. I think Mike’s going to get out there and realize he’s not as confident as he thinks he is.”

Rob couldn’t argue that. “He’s _not_ confident. I guess that’s what’s on my mind. Well, that, and I promised him I’d be there.” He sighed and pushed his glasses up, squinting over at Brad through the lenses. “Honestly, I’m not ready. You remember how weird it was to see Mike doing Fort Minor shows?” Brad nodded, and Rob nodded along. “I feel like this will be so much worse. But I have to go.”

Brad thought it would feel worse than Fort Minor, too, but he didn’t know how to express that without it sounding punitive, as though he felt Mike had abandoned them. He decided to sidestep the thought and address Rob’s promise instead. “Why did you do that? Of all things.”

“It came up one night, months ago.” It felt wrong to leave the circumstances around that promise out, but Rob didn’t elaborate. “I’m not going to the KROQ one. I’ll be at Identity LA.” There was nowhere to hide at the afternoon performance, but Rob knew he would be able to be backstage, in the dark, at Identity LA. And then he’d take Mike home, in whatever shape he was in after both performances.

With a shake of his head, Brad proclaimed, “he’s officially lost it. Two sets in one day. Alone. For the first time.” Brad tossed his hands up in the air. “I don’t even think I can watch the livestreams.”

“I know. Trust me, I know. I can’t imagine how he will feel when it’s all over tonight.” Rob slid his empty glass across the bar and glanced at his watch. Now he was certain Mike was doing soundcheck. 

Brad turned to the sink and started cleaning up the Vitamix and rinsing out his glass. “I guess it’s good you’ll be there. Let me know if you need anything. Though you seem to be handling Mike well on your own these days.” 

He didn’t say more, and Rob didn’t offer anything else about the subject. Brad was fishing, and Rob wasn’t going to take the bait. “You ready?” he asked instead, standing up from the barstool and tugging at his heather gray athletic shirt. The subject of Mike and the upcoming performances was over for now. He was about to destroy Brad Delson at tennis.

“I’m going to destroy you, Bourdie.” Brad echoed Rob’s thoughts, the same banter they’d used for years regarding their tennis matches. He wiped his hands on the towel next to the sink and gestured to the back yard, where the tennis court lay past the sparking blue pool. “After you.” 

****

When Rob arrived hours later to the crowd at Identity L.A, he was mildly surprised to see Joe there, taking advantage of Mike’s offer of backstage passes to see the entire show. Joe had thumped Rob on the back heartily a few times when he arrived, freshly showered after the tennis match where he _had_ , as usual, destroyed Brad, and then moved back out to the barricade, fully enjoying the show.

But Rob had stayed back, managing to blend his shy, quiet, six foot tall frame into the wall the way he’d been doing for years. Watching from his perch on the side stage, Rob thought Mike seemed to be doing well. Rob wasn’t worried about the actual set, but more Mike’s mental state as he worked through the songs. The cover of darkness seemed to have given Mike a degree of confidence, and from what Jim relayed to Rob before Mike’s set even started, that confidence had been lacking in the afternoon. 

It wasn’t a long performance, and the anxious feeling in Rob’s chest had just started to subside when he saw Mike impulsively climb up on the barricade. His heart stopped for a moment as it shook under Mike’s weight, but Joe was down the barricade in a few quick steps, holding onto it while Ed kept a hand on Mike. Rob couldn’t make himself go out in front of the crowd to help, his palms sweaty as the thought crashed over his mind, and then it was over as quickly as it started. Mike’s feet were back on the ground. Joe retreated to his spot down the barricade, and Rob breathed a sigh of relief. 

Then, in a flurry of activity, Mike was finished, rushed off the stage so the next act’s stage crew could could come on and set up. Rob peeled himself away from the wall with a wave to Joe before he followed Mike’s small entourage down the hallway to the little room where his things were stored. It was the place Mike had waited with Jim and Ed before the show, pacing anxiously back and forth, trying to erase the immediate memory of the KROQ performance and focus on the next one. Rob felt a pinch to his heart, a sting of regret that he hadn’t been there before the set, for anything Mike might have needed. 

Even though he was the last one in the room, Rob was the one to see Mike was struggling a little. Being the background observer of the band, it was something he’d been the first to notice on more than one occasion. Rob knew exactly the side pocket in Mike’s backpack where he kept his inhaler, and said nothing, taking the few steps over to retrieve it before Mike could even ask for it.

“Here.” He turned and offered the inhaler as Mike unzipped the jacket he’d been wearing and tossed it on the table. Their eyes met and Mike only nodded, popping the cover off and putting it to his lips, turning his back to Rob and the others as he inhaled deeply.

Rob watched the slope of Mike’s back as he breathed in and held still, letting the medicine do its work. After all of these years, he still didn’t understand why Mike would turn away to use the inhaler. _It’s like he can’t show even a second of weakness. I thought we were past that by now. I’ve watched him cry more in the last year than in all the years since I’ve known him._ He saw Mike slowly exhale, wait a moment, and put the cap back on. “Better?” he asked gently when Mike turned back around. He held out his hand.

“Yeah. Thanks, Bourdie. You always know.” Mike dropped the inhaler into Rob’s hand, then watched him for a few seconds. Thoughts of all the times Rob had been the one to hand over the small device bombarded him suddenly. It wasn’t as though Mike needed the inhaler daily, or even regularly. So much depended on the air quality where the band was performing, or even how much he’d been exercising recently. He tried to keep his lungs in shape for the demands of rapping and singing, but it was obvious tonight that he’d been on a break. 

Rob looked up from zipping Mike’s bag. “You sounded great tonight.” He left the backpack on the chair and stepped closer to Mike, reaching out to pat him lightly on the shoulder. “Look at you, already getting comfortable out there.” His smile was genuine, even though his heart was still stinging a little. If he was honest with himself, it had been hard to watch Mike on stage, all alone. 

“It was terrifying,” Mike said immediately, twisting the top off his water bottle and looking around the small room. He knew in a minute they would have to go, that another festival performer would be needing his space. It reminded him instantly of the festival days, the early days of Linkin Park when they were merely support groups, sharing spaces with other lesser known bands while the headliners got their own space and got to pick their food. A wave of nostalgia hit him. “It was like how we were in the beginning, but without you guys. When we started out, it never felt scary. We were all in it together, if something went wrong there was someone else to fill the void. While I was out there I kept thinking, ‘if something goes wrong, there will just be empty time.’ Which is never good.” 

Mike paused and drank down half the bottle, looking at Rob the entire time. “It was kinda like, like those dreams you have in grade school of giving a presentation, but you’re standing in front of the class naked? That’s what the _Weenie Roast_ felt like. Standing there naked. At least tonight it was dark. And I’d already done it once.”

“Looks like it will get easier every time,” Rob agreed, picking up Mike’s bag. “We can talk more on the way out. Or go grab something to eat, if you want. The posting outside says the next act is due in here in three minutes.”

“I know,” Mike said with a sigh, looking around the room. There were bottles of water on the table, some pre-packaged snacks, and hand sanitizer. A couch and two chairs rounded out the small space. It was a far cry from the multiple rooms, the instrument set ups, and the lavish food spreads they had enjoyed on Linkin Park tours. “I was just thinking about how this used to be us. Rushed from generic green room to generic green room. We’ve been spoiled, Bourdie, having everything our way for so long. This is like starting over.”

Rob stopped, his heart pounding. It was the first time Mike had sounded serious about crossing that line, leaving what they’d built in Linkin Park behind and making a go on his own. He hadn’t realized how much he hoped the five of them would continue one day until those words came out of Mike’s mouth. “I guess it is,” he managed to say, his tongue suddenly dry in his mouth.

Mike looked over his shoulder toward the door. He knew Ed and Jim were waiting on the other side to make sure the two of them got safely to Rob’s vehicle. “Thanks for grabbing my bag,” he said, holding his hand out. “I’ll take it. And you know, I didn’t mean starting over. Not the way you took it,” he offered quietly. “I was just thinking about how it was. It doesn’t seem so long ago.”

“It doesn’t.” Rob handed over the backpack and followed Mike out, barely listening as he gave Ed their plans to leave, and let him know they were just headed home. No more need for security. Rob was lost in remembering, thinking about all the hot festival days the band had spent, working their way up to becoming the headliner. Chester had been whiplash thin in those days, discarding his shirts early in the set, sometimes before they ever took the stage. Sweat would pour off the six of them, but only Chester had ever managed to make it look good. Something about the noticeable rivers of sweat running down his tattooed skin lent credence to the authenticity of his screams. In those days Mike could be counted on to look over at Chester, his expression awestruck at what the vocalist was capable of, and Rob could see the admiration in Mike’s dark eyes from half a stage away even back then. 

He pulled his head together enough to tell Ed and Jim good night when they reached the Range Rover. Mike seemed to be caught between the typical post-performance high and some other, darker mood. He was jittery when he tossed his bag into the backseat and climbed into the passenger side, one leg bouncing up and down as he clicked his seatbelt into place. Rob didn’t start the ignition. “You okay?”

“I think so.” Mike pressed his palms into his thighs, his legs still bouncing. “I can’t believe I did it, you know?” He couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or break down in tears. Both emotions were bubbling under the surface when he turned to look at Rob. “It almost felt like it wasn’t really me up there. Like it was somebody else.” Just as suddenly as the adrenaline had spiked on stage, Mike felt it all come down, like his body was deflating. He rested his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. “It didn’t feel real. I knew he wasn’t going to come out there and sing, but it didn’t stop me from feeling him, Bourdie. He was there.”

A silence fell between them, and Rob hesitated before he reached over and took Mike’s hand. “He’s always going to be there, I think.” Mike’s hand felt small in his, slender, his fingers long and thin. Rob looked down as he stroked his thumb over the back of Mike’s knuckles. “I think you did a great job,” he praised softly. “I couldn’t have done it, not yet, anyway.” He felt Mike squeeze his hand back. 

“I think I could do it again. I think.” Mike’s eyes were still closed. He hadn’t been sure when he came off stage if the tightness in his chest was suppressed tears, or his asthma. Now that he’d had time to calm down, his body felt limp and relaxed, and he knew his inhaler had definitely helped. “Warner is talking about the possibility of a tour, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that… but now I think I can see myself doing it. I think I could go out there and do it.” 

Rob nodded, though Mike wasn’t looking at him. “Whatever you want to do, Mike, like I told you before, I’ll support you. We’ve all got your back, even Brad said if you needed him, he’d be there.” He smiled briefly as Mike’s eyes opened and he lifted his head from the seat. “I totally stomped him on the court this afternoon.”

“You always do.” Mike smiled back before his eyebrows crinkled into a frown. “He didn’t take it so well when I told him I was going to do this. I bet he didn’t have much to say about it this afternoon.”

Rob let Mike’s hand go and reached to turn the car on. He was ready to get home. “We talked about it a little. He’s better. I think it was a shock to all of us, Mike. We’ve always made decisions together. And now its like, you’re out there on your own. It’s just an adjustment. I know I’m not ready to go back on stage, I sometimes have a hard time understanding how you are. Especially knowing how things were…”

It was still hard for Mike to hear of his relationship with Chester in the past tense, and the urge to correct Rob was strong. He just sighed and watched Rob navigate the Range Rover around festival parking lot traffic and out onto the road. Eventually he reached over and slid his hand down Rob’s forearm to take his hand again.

Rob kept his eyes on the road, but his pulse reacted to Mike’s touch. He let Mike slide their hands together again, and Rob didn’t want to let go.

“I’ll never stop loving him.” Mike’s voice was barely louder than the hum of the SUV, and Rob strained his ears to hear him. “I’ll never stop wondering if I did enough, or if it was my fault. I’ll never stop trying to honor what we had. I can’t go back and change any of it now. But this, going out there and singing his songs, hearing our fans sing his songs, it feels like it’s mending something that’s broken inside me. Even if you guys don’t understand, I have to do this.”

Rob looked over, catching Mike’s silhouette in the passing street lights. He knew right then, if going out on the road was going to heal Mike’s broken heart, it had to happen. If Mike was ever going to see past the lost relationship, he had to do something different that he’d been doing the last ten months. If sharing that burden with the world was going to lighten the load, then Rob knew he could never, ever say no. The band couldn’t stand in the way. Somehow, Mike had gotten his blessing to cross that invisible line.

He squeezed Mike’s hand tightly. “I’ll go with you,” he promised. “Wherever this journey takes you, you won’t be alone.”

****  
TBC


	9. Hold It Together

Rob pulled back the curtain of his assigned bunk and peered inside. When he stepped on the bus a few minutes ago, he was relieved it was cool and quiet. Mike was still outside with Ed, a nervous and excited vibe around him that Rob needed to step away from, just for a moment. Canada was behind them, and the flight to New York was in the past. Now they were ready to board the tour bus, and Rob had been dreading stepping back into that life for the first time ever since he’d agreed to go on the road with Mike.

For some reason, in the weeks after Chester’s passing, Rob had put away the idea of ever being inside a tour bus again. It drifted into the past with a whole list of other things that Chester had taken, along with his life, over a year ago. At several points in the grieving process it had felt impossible that he would ever be ready to perform again, and as he’d let that reality go, with it had gone thoughts of bus life. The cramped spaces, the hours on the road, the unhealthy snacks and the constant _noise_ of existing in such close quarters with other people. He preferred his solitude, and even at Mike’s house, the two of them existed in relative quiet. For a moment he wondered if he’d be able to do this after all.

But as he stood there staring at the compartment - the glossy wood paneling, the tucked sheets, the fluffy blanket and pillows, the personal television and multiple outlets - the prospect of spending five weeks bending his frame into the individual space wasn’t as unappealing as he’d thought it might be. It felt _normal_ , and that sense of normalcy brought with it a wave of grief like he hadn’t experienced in months. Rob felt it shake his soul and he dropped his head, his eyes closing at thoughts of tours long since past… of playing cards with Brad for hours, of the early days drinking beer with Joe, of laughing at the guys as they ran out of per diems and wanted a loan. Rob had always had extra money that his mom insisted he take, since he was still growing, in her words. The past few years had been different. Comfortable. There was no shortage of luxuries or money. They’d all been confident in their world and no longer fighting to be known. All of them felt like they were at the top of their careers.

 _We’d still be touring One More Light right now, if he were here. We should all be here. Me, Brad, and Joe on one bus. Dave and Mike and Chester on the other. Damn it, Chester._ He turned and looked behind him at the little white card with “MS” scrawled on it, designating the top bunk across from his for Mike. _That’s not the same for him, either. Ed’s underneath him now. Not Chester. They always set it up that way. Now we all know it was so nobody would hear them. They were so good at hiding their affair._

A flood of memories clicked into place then. Dave telling him how Mike and Chester never seemed to sleep on the bus. Always in the back writing. _Maybe they were writing. I’m sure they were doing other things, too. God, how naive we all were. For years, it happened under everyone’s nose. Even I didn’t know how long it had been going on… even though I knew about them the past few years._

Rob turned back to his space, tucking his backpack into the cubby under his name. It was the same backpack he’d taken to Portugal, and the thought brought a tentative smile back to his face. That backpack held the essentials, in stripped down Rob Bourdon style. A comb, toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant. He would borrow Mike’s clippers if he needed a trim, but five weeks was nothing. He wasn’t worried about his graying facial hair, or what it would look like out on the road. Things like the appearance of his hair or what t-shirt he had on were never things Rob spent time worrying about, and he didn’t intend to start now. 

There was nobody underneath him, which was nice in itself. He always worried about keeping others awake when he turned to get comfortable, or stretched his long legs. Their manager Jim had always bunked underneath Rob, but now Jim was on the other bus with the new guys. 

_The new guys._ Rob’s eyes narrowed in thought. They were nice enough, Matt and Dan, but Rob couldn’t help the unease he felt in their presence. Mike already seemed to be comfortable with them, all smiles as they rehearsed in the last days before they left L.A. It made Rob’s heart pinch to hear Dan playing his parts on Linkin Park songs. 

When he’d finally consented to going along on Mike’s Post Traumatic tour, it had been with the understanding that he was just going as a friend. Not as the drummer of Linkin Park. Rob hadn’t even been sure how that would work. All he knew was Mike’s hopeful brown eyes had turned to him one night at home from his computer screen. A complete itinerary was in his email, an entire tour that Dave, Joe, and Brad wouldn’t be asked to come along on, but Mike was asking Rob. And Rob made clear that night, if he did decide to go, he was only going as Mike’s friend. 

There was so much to consider before he agreed to come along. Rob sat in the studio with Mike after Identity L.A. while he worked out ways to incorporate more Linkin Park songs into his set. He’d been backstage at Amoeba, proud of his friend and terrified to watch him perform alone. He’d sat side stage at Love Loud, keeping watch over Mike, who seemed more confident that night, and then overjoyed when Phoenix joined him onstage.

But as quickly as all that happened, Mike was back to his stance that this tour wasn’t about Linkin Park. This album was _his_ , his personal statement of grief and love and hope, and his bandmates of almost twenty years had no place in that, even on Linkin Park songs. Rob had a hard time understanding how he fit into Mike’s vision, and he still hadn’t committed to Mike when it was time to tell the others about the Post Traumatic tour.

It had been a contentious band meeting, one that ended with everyone reluctantly agreeing that Post Traumatic was Mike’s and Mike’s alone. Dave had been wounded, but supportive, and Brad had looked at Rob for a long time before he sighed and told Mike he hoped it helped. Before they left the meeting, Joe offered to help Mike with his remixes, and only clapped Mike on the back with a nod and smile when he was turned down. Everyone was on the same page before they walked out the door, leaving Mike and Rob sitting in Mike’s living room alone. At least Mike hadn’t asked that night. It had been a few more weeks before he’d quietly asked Rob again to come along, their eyes meeting over some meatless concoction that he knew Mike had forced down instead of rejecting, for his sake. If nothing else, he’d gotten Mike to eat again. There was color in his face and the sallowness was gone. It was that healthier glow on Mike’s skin and in his eyes that made Rob say yes.

It seemed after that Rob only blinked, and the whirlwind of last minute tour rehearsals was happening, and then they were packing to leave. 

_Rob walked back through Mike’s foyer on the way to the kitchen, mentally counting the number of bags that seemed to keep multiplying. He knew it was Mike’s tour, but the suitcases seemed excessive. He had one, and that seemed like enough for five weeks._ It’s not like anyone is going to see me, anyway. I’m just along for the ride. Support. I’m there for emotional support. __

_He poured water into the kettle and put it on the stove, turning to grab a tea cup from the cupboard. It was too late in the day to drink coffee, but he wanted something other than water. Tomorrow they would be leaving, and that meant a lot of water bottles. Tour life was different. Traveling days meant limited conveniences._

_There were footsteps overhead as Rob opened a teabag, and then he heard Mike trotting down the stairs. It was refreshing to see him looking so excited, and Rob couldn’t help but smile. “You finished packing?” he asked, nodding his head toward the front door. “It looks like you’re going on a year long sabbatical.”_

_Mike grinned back, sliding on the floor in his socks to a stop in front of Rob. “I think I’ve got it. We can always go shopping while we’re out, too.” Shopping was something he and Chester had always done on the road, and Rob saw uncertainty pass over Mike’s face as the thought hit them both._

_“I don’t know that I’ll be going out much,” Rob said lightly but firmly. “I don’t want the pap taking pictures. This isn’t about me, you know. This is all about Mike Shinoda. Well… Mike and Chester.” He quirked an eyebrow at Mike. They’d already talked about how every interview Mike had done started out talking about him as an artist, and slowly became about Chester._

_Mike paused. “It’s really_ not _about me. It’s always been about Ches. Do you think people are going to think it’s about me? I don’t want people to think that. Ugh. You’re right, Bourdie. All the trash magazines are going to be writing shit like that.”_

_“Probably. I don’t think there’s any way to avoid it. There’s certainly no way to make everyone happy.” He’d shrugged it off, trying to restore the excitement to Mike’s face and the light to his eyes. “You’ve never cared what people thought of your music before, why start now?”_

Now Mike was organizing his suitcases underneath, and Rob wandered to the back of the bus. He knew Mike would be along soon enough. He sat down on the couch and tried to imagine how the next month and a half would unfold, how he would feel and how Mike would feel. He wondered if the insomnia Mike had suffered the past year would follow him on the road, if he’d get up in the night and make tea, if he’d want Rob to join him. It didn’t take much for his mind to leap to clandestine moments in the back of the bus, but Rob pushed them away. He wasn’t a replacement for Chester. He wasn’t a rebound. He was there to be Mike’s support, not to finally kiss him on the cream colored leather couch, or lay Mike across the chair and plant his knees in the ground while he took him from behind. As much as he wished it could be, that’s not what Rob was on tour to do. 

His thoughts went back to Mike’s solo stuff, and the new guys. It didn’t bother him when Mike brought Dan in for the new songs. Rob hadn’t had anything to do with any of that. But his muscle memory remembered the hours, weeks, months sometimes it had taken for him to work out a drum part that the six of them voted into a song. His hands and feet remembered the repetitions, alone in his drum room in his house, or his rented space when they were first starting out. Rob’s whole body could play a Linkin Park song without a thought. Things that were second nature to Rob took rehearsal time for Dan and Mike to mesh, and Mike was impatient at times. It was hard for Rob to watch, but he held his words from Mike and his tips from Dan. If Mike wanted Dan, Dan was going to figure it out alone. Rob wasn’t going to interfere in Mike’s process.

The process, Rob decided, was the most important part of Mike’s healing. For him, he had no other part in the Post Traumatic tour than helping Mike on that path. But Mike hadn’t exactly figured out what the whole tour was about. It still felt a lot like publicly professing his love for Chester, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Inside, they were both just trying to hold it together, to not show the tumultuous feelings that Mike performing again was stirring up. The panic attacks that drove Rob to Portugal hadn’t come back, but there were times he’d needed to walk away and think, or hide away like he was doing now, take time to meditate. There were days it was too painful to hear Mike making plans and being excited to perform. There were moments Rob wanted to take him and shake him and tell him that he’d lost sight of reality, of the fact his other four living bandmates had lost everything and needed to heal, too. But he didn’t do that. He couldn’t do that.

Instead, he sat down to meditate, the same way he was sitting on the bottom bunk now. He rested his chin on his hand. He shut out the sounds around him and concentrated on his breathing. In for four, out for eight, four times. He felt the calmness wash over him, his focus on what this tour was all about coming back to the center. He wanted Mike to heal. He wanted to walk off the tour bus in six weeks and go home with Mike a little less broken. _If this is what it takes to let Chester go, for Mike, for all of us, then this is what it takes to let Chester go._

Rob heard Mike taking the steps onto the bus, and turned to greet him with a hopeful smile.

**

Watching Mike from backstage felt strange for Rob the entire first week of shows. Mike had never been a big hype man - that was Chester’s job - but now he was bouncing around backstage during the opening act, excited to perform. Rob could only shake his head with a soft smile at Mike’s impatience while the set was changed and guitars were tuned. Underneath that impatience and that bossiness was insecurity, though Rob was the only one to see it. Everyone else saw confident Mike, the way he’d always presented himself. Rob knew differently, and he suspected Jim did too, though he said little about it and encouraged Mike earnestly. 

But Rob knew Mike’s insecurities. The very first show in Montreal, Mike had reached for him, pulling him into the pre-show huddle with Matt and Dan as though Rob were going out on stage, too. It was only then, despite Mike’s outwardly exuberant appearance, that Rob knew the truth. He felt the way Mike’s long fingers clutched at his back, his side, his shoulder… anywhere he could grab. He could hear that anxious edge in Mike’s voice in the last minute instructions and wishes for a good show. He could feel the sweat already heating Mike’s skin under his layers of shirts.

A week on the road passed - New York, Pennsylvania, North Carolina - and it became routine. Rob was part of the pre-show huddle, always next to Mike. Rob was his touchstone, the last person Mike made eye contact with every night before he went on stage. Every night Rob nodded his head as if to say, _you’ve got this._ Sometimes he wondered if _he_ did, but it wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about what he’d lost with Linkin Park, he reminded himself, it was about what Mike had lost with Chester. 

Rob’s heart didn’t ache for those lost experiences until Mike started to talk about their vocalist. The most difficult thing for him was the middle of Mike’s show, when the crowd quieted and Mike let his memories take hold. Some nights the crowd was so still, so quiet, that Rob could hear his heart beating in his ears. Some nights Mike smiled and laughed while he told stories. Some nights Rob watched as Mike looked toward the sky, as though somehow Chester were there, listening. Some nights even Rob thought he could feel their bandmate, but as suddenly as he felt it, Chester was out of reach. Mike would have the crowd singing, louder than what a small venue should sound like, and whatever spirit Rob might have felt was transferred into that crowd. To Rob it almost felt like their stadium shows - vibrant, full of life and love and joy. All the things Chester had been. Chester was there in every shouted lyric. 

The first six shows were a mix of emotions, an up and down Rob hadn’t felt since the tumultuous weeks before the Hollywood Bowl show. Somehow, though, by the time they left North Carolina, bound for Florida, both his and Mike’s emotions seemed to be less out of control. Rob started to feel settled with bus life, and living so closely with Mike. 

Even though he’d been staying at Mike’s house for months now, their spaces were carefully separate in the big house. Being on tour changed that, and Rob made a conscious effort to keep his concentration on Mike’s healing, and not how he looked in the morning when he opened his bunk curtain. Rob didn’t allow himself to linger on Mike’s messy hair and sleepy eyes, his bare feet poking from the bottom of joggers, his frame looking so delicate behind the oversized hoodies he slept in. No, Rob greeted Mike each morning with a brief look, a smile, and a cup of coffee before Jim outlined their day.

Between venues, Rob texted his Brads - Delson and Bourdon - to check in, and occasionally called his mother, since he’d vowed to do better at that this time when he left. His brother was always asking how _he_ was feeling, which Rob rarely wanted to discuss. His childhood best friend was always asking how _Mike_ was feeling, which Rob felt obligated to gloss over. Everything was fine, though there were days that Rob was tempted to text back, _we’re barely holding our shit together over here, Delson._ He didn’t.

Another week came and went, and they traveled Florida, Georgia, and back to North Carolina before the tour took them to New Orleans. It would be a long bus ride, but by then Rob was accustomed to staying up late and sleeping until noon. It took Mike hours to come down from the high of the show, and it was unusual for him to be calm enough to sleep before three a.m. In the span of two weeks their lives turned eerily reminiscent of their early twenties; late nights on the bus, sloppy drive-through burgers and fries, laughing and talking about funny things that had happened on stage that night. 

There were nights that Mike would come down from the performance high without the conversation dissolving into nostalgia, memories of Linkin Park shows and Chester. But some nights, the story he’d told on stage about his lover lingered in his thoughts and in his mood. Those were the nights Rob followed Mike into the back lounge with tea cups and they sat close, arms and legs touching, and talked it out. As much as Rob hated to admit it, the talking was therapeutic for him, too. 

Tonight in the wee hours they were both facing the lounge door, fresh from showers but still not tired enough to retreat to the bunks. Mike’s legs were tucked up under him with his bare feet poking out, but Rob’s stretched in out front of them, his feet snuggly hidden in his slippers. Rob could smell Mike’s deodorant and tried to ignore the crisp, clean scent. 

“I just got choked up tonight. I had to look away from them for a minute. I’ve been doing good with that,” Mike mumbled over the top of his tea cup.

“You really have,” Rob agreed. “I’ve been impressed with your poise out there on stage.” He felt Mike’s face turn toward him, and he looked over to see a smile. “What?”

“Poise. Who says poise?” Mike laughed, a low giggle that made Rob smile in return. “You crack me up.” He held Rob’s gaze for only a moment, and then looked back down at his cup before he took a sip and cleared his throat. “I’m glad it’s you that’s here with me,” Mike offered, the teasing tone falling away from his voice. “I’m grateful. Grateful I don’t have to do this alone.”

“You wanted to do it alone,” Rob objected immediately. “You were adamant.”

“Not _alone_ alone,” Mike emphasized, as though that made things clear. He glanced over at Rob again. “You know. On stage, I didn’t think it was right to drag you guys out there. It would give people this sense of hope about the band, and that’s not right. Not when we don’t know what we’re doing with that.” Mike sighed and looked down, picking at his charcoal gray joggers. “What I mean is, I’m glad I have you here to _feel_ things with. The good things and the bad things. The worst was when you left, and I had to feel it on my own.”

Rob froze. It had been a while since his disappearance to Portugal had come up. He waited to see if Mike was going to say anything more before he let out a long breath and reached down for Mike’s hand. It was such a familiar gesture now, and one that made Rob’s insides long for more. He pushed those feelings down and focused. “I needed that time, Mike. I needed to process it in my way, on my terms, in my time. You understand that, don’t you?” He squeezed Mike’s hand lightly. “It’s like what you’ve been doing. Making music and processing. It’s like what you’re doing now. Your way, on your terms, on your time. And it’s helping. I can see it.”

“You think?” Mike asked softly, his eyes on Rob’s fingers that were laced through his. “Sometimes it feels as raw as that first night.”

“I think there will be moments like that your whole life, Mike. But yeah… I do think you’re doing better. For a while, I wasn’t so sure I’d ever have you back.” Rob felt Mike’s head lean against his shoulder, then sort of melt against him. He rested his cheek on the top of Mike’s head. “You’re having fun out there, I can see it. You deserve to have fun. You deserve to keep living. He’d want that.” Rob closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way Mike’s face nuzzled closer to him.

“I think you’re right. I think he’d tell me that, if he could.” Mike was still staring at his hand, dwarfed in Rob’s. “Thank you for being here with me. I know I’m a wreck most of the time.”

“I wouldn’t call you a wreck. A pain in the ass, mostly,” Rob murmured, a smile in his voice. “Bossy and demanding, but not a wreck.”

“Fine, fine,” Mike grumbled back, lifting his head from Rob’s shoulder. “I’m a bossy, demanding, pain in the ass, and the fact you put up with me is more than I deserve,” he decided before he reached out and put his tea cup on the small table at the side of the couch. He turned and looked at Rob, at the shoulder and defined bicep he’d just been laying on, and cleared his throat again. “Thank you,” he whispered, tugging at Rob’s hand.

Rob let himself be pulled into the hug he knew was coming. His arms went around Mike’s shoulders, pulling him close as Mike’s snaked around his waist. A moment later Mike turned his face into Rob’s neck, the scruff on Mike’s face scraping his skin, and for the second time that night, Rob could hear his own heart beating in his ears. He closed his eyes and then he would have bet money that he felt Mike’s lips on his neck, touching his skin on purpose. 

It was the most fleeting touch, a barely there damp butterfly’s kiss, and Rob held his breath as another delicate kiss feathered his skin. 

Then Mike was pulling away, his cheeks a little pink and his eyes cast to the side. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he breathed, and Rob didn’t want to let go. “I’m a wreck. I should go to sleep.”

Rob only nodded, watching silently as Mike stood up and grabbed his tea cup to take to the kitchenette. He was stunned, and didn’t move from where he was sitting. He could see into the bus, and he watched Mike stand at the small sink for a moment, his head hung, before he turned and went straight to his bunk. Rob watched him climb in, heard the curtain close, and he still didn’t move. He waited until he couldn’t hear Mike stirring anymore before he stood up, leaving his tea cup behind, and crept to his bunk. 

Rob had a lot of practice being silent, but he knew those small kisses were no accident, and Mike’s apology would have to be met head on when they woke up. He wasn’t going to be a rebound. _Is it still a rebound a year later?_ He didn’t know, but he also didn’t know if Mike knew anything other than the fact that Rob was filling an empty space beside him.

 _We’ll talk about it tomorrow._ He tried not to let his heart get involved, to have hope. Not yet. He climbed in his bunk and turned to close the curtain. By the faint lights overhead, he could see Mike’s curtain wasn’t completely closed. It was open like an invitation, and Rob yanked his the rest of the way closed before he could change his mind. Invitation or not, he wasn’t going down that road right now… not without a big talk first.

****  
TBC


	10. Ghosts

The bus was in motion when Rob woke up the morning after… the morning after things changed between him and Mike. He lay completely still, didn’t even open his eyes, as he contemplated the night before, and the petal kisses to his neck Mike had left there. Kisses he could still feel, burned onto his skin like a branding. If he were an irrational person, he’d be afraid the marks would be there for everyone to see. But Rob wasn’t irrational, or fanciful. He knew there was no way for anyone on the outside looking in to see that Mike had left an indelible mark on him in the back lounge, free from the muddled decision making properties of alcohol. Whether or not those kisses had been colored by other emotions, Rob wasn’t sure. 

He lifted his hand and touched his neck where Mike had kissed him, his eyes still closed while he thought about it. Tried to figure out how to start the conversation he knew needed to happen. In his head it was simple. He’d make coffee. Mike would come from his bunk, sleep tousled and gorgeous as always, and they’d sit in the back lounge, bodies close, waking up together. He could take Mike’s hand and tell him a story of how he’d loved him for years, and Mike would smile and everything would be perfect. He could see it in his head.

But Rob wasn’t fanciful. As much as he wanted to simply confess, _Mike, I’ve been in love with you for years,_ he knew presenting that information in the wrong way could break everything.

So he didn’t know where to even start. Did he go back to the crush he’d had on Mike before the band ever got started? Would that even matter, almost twenty-five years later? They’d both gone on to date girls, and he’d been in a relationship with a girl when Mike married Anna. Rob dabbled on both sides in his twenties, but his public relationships had only been with women. He’d only once had a serious relationship with a man, and it was sandwiched quietly between two very public, very blonde girlfriends. 

The more he thought about it, not admitting to the years he’d pined for Mike seemed to be the easiest way, even if it was selling his feelings short. Long ago he’d come to terms with the fact that Mike was Anna’s, and Chester’s, and there was no room in that for him. Now he woke every day to a world where not only Mike’s lover, but his wife, were gone. It was a whole new reality, and they’d been navigating it together just fine, until Mike kissed him. 

Rob lay in the bunk, trying to make sense of how he was feeling, until he decided that there was no way to know what he would say until he saw Mike that morning. He could lay there and turn over all the possibilities of how it would go in his head until he went crazy, or he could admit that worrying about it would only make him anxious and get up to make coffee. Give himself something to do other than obsess over a moment that hadn’t yet happened.

Reaching for his glasses in the small cubby next to the bed, Rob rolled over. The interior of the bunk came into focus, his small collection of personal effects tucked into spaces around the bed. It was too compact a space for him to sit all the way up, but he pushed up on one elbow and blinked the sleepiness from his eyes before he pushed his hair back absently and let his head fall back on the pillow. Knowing he should get out of bed and making it happen were two different things. He pulled his curtain back a little, just enough to see Mike’s had been pulled completely closed at some point after he’d gone to bed. 

The privacy that afforded was enough to encourage Rob to get up, swinging his legs off the side of the bunk and hopping down the few feet to the aisle. For thirty-nine he was in remarkably good shape, and a few quick stretches in the aisle were all it took to rid him of the stiffness of sleep. It didn’t take much effort for him to pull his sheets and blankets up and make the bed, either, the thought making him smile. Mike left his unmade all day, despite making his bed daily at home. Something about being on the road turned his bandmate into a teenage boy, one who wasn’t interested in things like making beds and sleeping at reasonable hours. Rob closed the curtain to his bunk and slid his feet into his slippers, then made his way down the aisle toward the idea of coffee. 

He could move around the kitchenette without ever moving his feet. Everything was within reach of his long arms, and he put the paper coffee filter in the coffee maker silently, then scooped the coffee in next before adding the water and pushing the button. It would only be minutes until he had a steaming cup in his hands, and Mike wouldn’t be far behind. If there was one thing Rob could count on, it was that Mike never slept through the smell of coffee. 

Neither did Ed, and he was up and dressed before the last of the coffee percolated. After so many years together he knew Rob well, and the words between them were brief before Ed took his mug and retreated back to the lounge to watch the news and call his wife. Rob was pouring a second cup when he heard Mike shut the door to the bathroom. He took a deep breath before he grabbed his mug and went to sit at the small table to wait.

It was just big enough to comfortably seat the two of them, one facing the front of the bus and the other the back. Rob chose to sit facing forward, away from the kitchenette. It would give Mike the chance to think before they had to speak to each other, and that seemed like a good idea this morning. He really had no idea what would be said between them. He just knew that the secret kisses in the back lounge couldn’t be ignored. They had been light, but Rob felt them as though they’d been pressed into the layers of his skin. 

Rob’s ears picked up the sound of Mike shutting the bathroom door again, and then he heard coffee going into another mug. He couldn’t help but smile. They were all creatures of habit, and coffee first thing in the morning, before any other words, was routine. Rob tried to imagine what Mike’s mornings had been like on the bus with Dave and Chester, and had to think that it was nothing like the silent mornings he shared with Mike now. He wondered which Mike preferred. 

He looked up as Mike slid into the seat across from him.

“Morning,” Mike mumbled, his eyes dropping to the table top. He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt for a few seconds and then wrapped both hands around his coffee mug.

Rob watched the way Mike’s long fingers curled around the cup. “Morning. How’d you sleep?” He asked out of genuine concern, though he knew the answer. If it had been a bad night, he would have woken up when Mike did. They both seemed to sleep through the night, though, and Rob was grateful. Trying to navigate this conversation would be harder after a night that had been filled with restless dreams.

Mike sipped his coffee and then took off his glasses, setting them on the table so he could rub his eyes. “Fine.” He didn’t know what else to say. He remembered how they had parted ways the night before, and how Rob hadn’t come to him to say good night, or to talk about it. He wasn’t sure if that meant the kisses would be ignored, or if Rob wanted to talk about them this morning. All Mike knew was that he wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. Rob hadn’t come after him, and he also hadn’t stopped him from leaving. In Mike’s mind, that meant he’d read Rob entirely wrong. The glasses went back on his face and brought Rob into sharp focus. Mike looked away.

On the other side of the table, Rob waited. He was practiced at letting others speak first, but it quickly became obvious Mike wasn’t going to make a move to talk about things. From his body language Rob could tell he was uncomfortable, even though he’d accepted the coffee and sat down across from Rob at the small front table instead of going to the lounge with Ed. They were so close he could feel Mike’s knees knocking against his with the vibration of the bus. “So,” he started softly, and Mike’s eyes flashed up to meet his instantly. Without his contacts, Mike’s eyes were huge behind the lenses in his thick, clear framed glasses. Rob pushed his own glasses up out of habit. “You kissed me last night.”

Color rose in Mike’s cheeks instantly, and it wasn’t simply a light blush. Despite knowing that they needed to talk about it, he was still caught off guard by the direct question. He looked out the window to escape, trying to focus on the terrain that was going by in reverse instead of Rob’s gaze. “I told you I was sorry. I was tired.” He pushed a hand through his hair and kept his eyes averted, not offering another word. 

Rob let a few miles pass while Mike drank his coffee and avoided looking at him, admiring the fact that Mike didn’t simply get up and walk away. It would be easier to go to the lounge and watch the news with Ed, pretend the conversation was closed, but Mike sat stubbornly across from him, and it was a sign he was willing to talk, if only Rob asked the right questions. “It was more than one. Two, Mike. Why?” Rob finally pushed gently, but Mike stayed silent. 

He let himself look at Mike’s profile then, his messy morning hair that was sticking up in the back and hanging across his forehead in the front. His dark lashes that outlined his eyes in a way women he’d dated tried to replicate but couldn’t. The profile of his nose, cut at the bridge with those clunky glasses, and all of the soft facial hair that Mike kept trimmed far neater than Rob did his own. The last place he looked, and where his eyes lingered, was Mike’s lips. They looked as soft as they’d felt the night before, and Rob wished Mike would look at him.

“What do you want me to say?” Mike said timidly, jolting Rob from his admiring thoughts. “It felt right. _You_ said I deserved to keep living,” he added, a touch of accusation in his voice, “and you’re right. _You’ve_ helped me come back to the living.” His gaze was still fixed outside the window, but he was looking up toward the sky, and Rob knew he was thinking about Chester.

“Me?” Rob questioned. “I haven’t done anything.” He could feel his heart beating faster, the same way it had felt when Mike’s lips met his skin last night. 

Mike shook his head slowly. “More than you realize, I think.” He licked his lips, and Rob watched the familiar movement of Mike’s tongue. It was an action he’d seen thousands of times. “I’ve seen how you look at me, Bourdie. So I thought it would be okay, you know? I thought I could read you better than everyone else.”

Rob was stunned, his mind trying to piece together what Mike was talking about. He tried to think of what Mike could have possibly seen that would make him think the kisses would be welcome. Nothing that he’d done that would have given Mike a clue to how he felt came to mind. “What do you mean?” 

“At home it was different,” Mike mused, and Rob scrambled to follow his train of thought. “Things were different there. But now, here on the bus, after the shows, I see that look in your eyes. Like maybe you want to kiss me, too.” His voice was soft and far away, like he was speaking to someone else as he stared out the window.

“Mike,” Rob whispered weakly. He didn’t like where this was going. It wouldn’t take much for Mike to wear him down, to make him think that maybe this was a good idea after all. It all still felt too soon. “We’ve been friends for so long-”

“You don’t think we might be past friendship at this point?” Mike interrupted, finally turning away from the window to look at him. “I mean, you can stop me if I’m speaking out of turn,” he challenged, and the two of them sat for some time, staring at each other. Mike watched as the stubbornness in Rob’s eyes changed to something pleading. “You can say it, Bourdie.”

Rob sighed. His hand went to his face, covering his mouth the way he usually did when he was deep in thought. It was hard to admit the truth, but it didn’t seem that Mike was going to let him run from it. “You’re not wrong, Mike,” he said finally, and both of them slowly let out the breaths they’d been holding at the same time. They sat silently again, thinking things over, each of them trying to decide where to go next. 

The conversation had the potential to take all day, but that was what they had - the luxury of time on a multi-state bus ride. Neither of them felt the need to rush through it; Rob was naturally quiet, and Mike was naturally methodical, and that lead to lapses in the conversations between them at times. They were used to that with each other. 

Eventually Mike looked back over at Rob, who was still trying to hide behind his hands. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

It was a loaded question, and Rob considered giving a partial answer before he decided to just meet it head on. “Honestly? I didn’t think you were ready. I don’t know that you are. I watch you-”

“You’ve done a lot of watching.”

It was Rob’s turn to blush. It was true. He’d watched Mike and Chester for years, had admitted as much. “I have.” He closed his eyes to summon the courage to be real, to reveal his biggest concern with moving forward after such a huge admission. Confirming that he had a thing for Mike, and that Mike felt the same way, was already a lot to take in at once. When he opened his eyes, Mike was still locked in to his face. Rob reached across the table for his hand. “I’ve been watching you for years, and I’ve been watching you since I came home. I’ve watched you struggle, Mike, and I know that I don’t want to be your rebound. You’re still grieving.” There. He’d said it. Bluntly and unapologetically, he’d given his reason for going to Portugal, for putting distance between them, for stopping the kisses. It was the reason for everything he’d done since he walked out of Brad’s kitchen so many months ago.

Mike recoiled from the idea that Rob would simply be a placeholder. Of course he was still grieving. Grieving the loss of Chester, the security of his life with the band and touring, the stability of Anna and the kids at home. But Mike shook his head. Grief was a separate thing. Who was Rob to say that something new couldn’t come from the ashes of what had been? “What’s happening between us, it’s not happening because of that.”

“It wouldn’t be happening if he were still here,” Rob said bluntly, Mike’s hand still in his own. He could never stop the thoughts that came in moments like these, that Mike needed protection, that he was so much smaller. He wondered who had protected who when Mike was caught up in his affair with Chester, and suddenly it occurred to him that he’d been wrong all along. It wasn’t Mike looking after Chester, it was the other way around. How had he missed that? It didn’t matter. Mike looked crushed at his words, and Rob started to apologize but Mike stopped him.

“No, it wouldn’t be happening if he were here.” Mike looked him straight in the eyes, the truth burning in the depths of his dark eyes. “But he’s not here anymore, is he? So this is not how you think.”

Rob scoffed, but he couldn’t bring himself to argue, asking instead, “what is it that I think?” He was genuinely curious where Mike was going with all of this.

“It’s not about Chester-”

“It’s not?” Rob interrupted, and Mike felt silent for a moment. Rob could hear him breathing.

“Of course it’s not. This is about me and you.” Mike looked miserable as he searched for words. “You’re not a replacement for him. I don’t want you to feel that way.”

Just hearing it out loud made Rob’s stomach uneasy. “But you can see how I might think that.” _Or how other people might think that,_ he added silently. 

The gentle accusation was enough to frustrate Mike. He scowled at Rob’s words. “What, that just because you’re here, I’m ready to fuck you?” Mike spat bitterly. “Why are you being like this? So negative all of a sudden! You’ve been nothing but supportive and now all of a sudden you want to put the breaks on? It’s not like us being close has happened overnight.” Mike motioned between the two of them and then pointed at Rob. “I told you that you brought me back to the living. You, Rob. Nobody else offered to stay with me at the house. Nobody else got me to quit drinking myself into a stupor or getting so high I passed out.” Mike could feel the blood in his cheeks and he had a hard time keeping his voice down. “If you didn’t care, if you didn’t want to be the one, why didn’t you just stay gone, leave me be like everyone else? You can’t all of a sudden claim it’s too soon, when I’ve seen you undressing me with your eyes on the bus. If you want to let his ghost stop what’s happening here, then why are we even talking about it?” 

The sudden turn toward anger paused Rob for a moment, but it didn’t take long for his passion about the situation to match Mike’s. He leaned forward, making sure to keep his voice lower than the sound of the television coming from the back lounge. “We’re talking about it because _you_ kissed _me_ , Shinoda.” He glanced down the aisle of the bus, then back at Mike’s frustrated expression.

“And why is that so wrong?” Mike hissed. “What would be so wrong about us being together? About giving it a try? It wouldn’t be your first time.” It was easy for Rob to see the challenge in his eyes, the _come on, tell me I’m wrong_ look on Mike’s face. It was the same look he got in the studio when he was ready to fight for some element of a song. 

Rob didn’t think before he blurted out, “because I’m afraid of his ghost. He’s everywhere still, and I get it, I do. But I’m not going to take his place!” Rob covered his mouth for a moment, surprised he’d let those words out. Usually he was calm. Usually his words were peaceful, not inciting. He’d let Mike get under his skin.

Rob let go of his coffee cup and pulled Mike’s hand closer, catching it between both of his. He could feel each slender finger and the way Mike was trembling, and Rob took a deep breath to try to continue calmly, to make sense. “He was my friend. I loved him, too. Not the way you did, and I feel guilty sitting here telling you any of this. I feel guilty I couldn’t save him for you. I feel guilty that I watched him unravel and didn’t say anything. I feel _guilty_ that I’ve been in love with you, and I knew it would never happen _because_ of him, and then he was _gone._ I feel guilty that I had to leave to get away from you because I didn’t want to be _that guy_ who moved in on you while you were still grieving him, Mike. So, yeah. I didn’t kiss you back last night but I want you to know, the only thing I wanted to do was kiss you.”

They were both on the verge of tears now, and Rob lowered his head to Mike’s hand, still caged between his. “I’m sorry. But I don’t want this if it’s not what you truly want. It’s not about me, Mike. I’ve sat on the sidelines and watched for years.”

The implication there was clear, and Mike stared at the top of Rob’s head, totally blindsided by the revelation. The idea that his friend had watched and wanted him for years while he kept one foot in each of his relationships was embarrassing. “I didn’t know,” Mike whispered. “How could you?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Rob admitted, staring at Mike’s fingers. “I only want the best for you. And Chester was what was best for you.” He didn’t have to look up to know that Mike was crying now. He could hear the sniffles and the way Mike was breathing. He’d been witness to more of Mike Shinoda’s tears in the last year than he could count. Rob closed his eyes as his heart pinched. This was harder than he’d thought it would be when he was still laying in his bunk, not even an hour ago.

“But he left me,” Mike finally choked out, “and you promised you never would. You promised,” he reminded Rob, as though it was something he would forget. 

“I did.” Rob let the words hang in the air for a minute before he looked up at Mike and the tears falling from his dark lashes, streaking down his cheeks to be lost in his dark beard. Despite it all, Mike still looked beautiful to him. “When you start believing in that promise, that’s when I’ll know you’re ready for this. I love you, Mike, I would never leave. I only left after Chester died because it was wrong of me to stay.”

“So you’re just going to wait for me?” The clear framed glasses magnified the tears in Mike’s eyes. He slowly pulled his hand away from Rob’s.

“I’ve been waiting for you. I’ll wait for you as long as it takes.” Rob sat back, picking up his coffee cup again. “When you’re celebrating him every night instead of mourning him, I’ll know. I’ll know you’re ready for this to be something beyond someone who simply wants you. Because if that’s all you want out of this, you could have your pick of anyone, someone different every night. I want more than that.” 

Their eyes met, and Mike didn’t look away. He held Rob’s eyes for a long moment, and finally whispered, “when you kiss me back, that’s when _I’ll_ know.” He picked up his coffee and got up from the table, leaving Rob behind to wonder just exactly when that would happen.

****  
TBC


	11. Make It Up As I Go

The last day of tour came faster than Rob expected. Six weeks on the road was nothing compared to the marathon overseas tours Linkin Park had taken multiple times. It was interesting to him that he wasn’t ready to head home yet, and that _home_ now meant something different than it had months ago. 

In his head he pictured Mike’s place, and it surprised him every time, though it shouldn’t have. They had left for tour from Mike’s, and Rob assumed he’d be returning there, though things were starting to look better. Different. It wasn’t clear if Mike still needed him the way he had before. Mike was better than he’d been at any point in the last year, and Rob was happy to see the changes. It made him hopeful in a way he hadn’t been since Chester passed. 

Since their heavy talk, three weeks had passed, more or less in keeping with the first three weeks. They were sleeping later than they did at home. They shared coffee on the road with the vibration of the bus beneath them. He watched Mike write or sketch when they weren’t passing time with board games or video games. Lunch happened in off beat restaurants with the whole crew, the new guys included. Mike didn’t leave his bunk curtain open again, or leave more than a hug behind when it was time for bed. It was all very much like the first part of tour, and it was good, in Rob’s head, that those things hadn’t changed.

What _had_ changed was the way Mike looked at _him._ Rob tried not to read too much into the way Mike embraced him after the shows, or the way he would lay his damp head on Rob’s shoulder at night while they relaxed in the back lounge after showers. He tried not to follow Mike’s every move with his eyes, knowing what he knew now - that Mike could see the hunger in his gaze.

Rob wasn’t sure what his expressions told Mike now, but as those three weeks passed, Rob catalogued every glance, every word they exchanged, every touch between them. At the shows he listened to Mike tell his stories about Chester, and every story that passed seemed to ache a little less. Time was sliding by, and gradually the cloud surrounding Mike’s shows seemed to dissipate. Rob didn’t know if the conversation he’d had with Mike weeks ago had influenced him or not, but Mike was smiling more. His eyes no longer lingered on the flag with the picture of Chester that was making its way around the venues. By the time they made it to this final show, it seemed he was fairly resolved not to look at it at all. 

The morning of the final show he sat with Rob in the lounge, drinking coffee, the bus parked behind the venue. There had been some discussion of going to breakfast, but Mike hadn’t managed to get dressed yet. Rob finally suggested that perhaps Ed or Jim would run out and grab them something, and was relieved when the bodyguard took the hint. Mike had sent him on his way with a short list, and then the two of them sat together in comfortable silence, both of them with mugs of coffee in their hands.

“You ready for tonight?” Rob asked, rolling his head on the back of the couch to look at Mike. There was a strand of hair falling across his forehead, and Rob kept his hands to himself. He wanted to touch it, to move it and tease Mike that he needed a haircut, but he didn’t.

“I’m ready.” Mike rolled his head head toward Rob and their eyes met. 

Rob felt his breath catch at the look on Mike’s face. He’d been waiting for that sparkle to come back to MIke’s eyes. The light had been sucked out of Mike’s soul when Chester left, and Rob knew all along it would never be exactly the same. But the glint in his eyes now, talking about the upcoming show - it was the moment Rob had wanted to see for weeks. The moment they had talked about, the moment that said to Rob that Mike was celebrating instead of mourning. He was looking at Mike’s lips and didn’t realize they were moving until he heard Mike’s laugh.

“You’re not even paying attention to me.” Mike’s laugh subsided as Rob’s face turned serious, and he reached over and took Mike’s hand. 

“Sorry. I was listening, but then I was thinking… you look happy, Mike. And it’s good to see.” He offered Mike an apologetic smile. He hadn’t meant to get distracted. He was usually the best listener, but lately Mike had been more distracting than usual, and Rob had found himself not hearing every word being said.

Mike paused for a second, thinking. “I am. It’s been a good tour. It’s like the album,” he mused. “It started in one place and ended up in a completely different place. I just have a feeling about tonight. It’s going to go well.”

“Of course it is.” 

It was nice to have such an emphatic agreement from Rob, that kind of unrelenting support. “It’s different. It still feels strange without him. But not impossible anymore. I was even thinking, what if we did another leg?” Mike let go of Rob’s hand and turned to face him, one sock covered foot coming up to tuck under his butt as he spoke earnestly. “What if we did a European leg?”

Rob could see the excitement in Mike’s face. He wasn’t sure who the “we” was in Mike’s thoughts, and he sat up as well. “We’ve always had good reception in Europe,” he offered, then hid behind his mug to see what Mike would say.

“Right. I was thinking that. I was thinking of telling Jim, seeing what he thought about getting the team on that for the spring. It would give us a few months off before we went back out. If you thought you wanted to come,” Mike amended quickly. “I know that’s asking a lot, and we’ve already been away for a while.”

Rob wanted to say yes immediately. He wanted to take Mike’s hand again and tell him that he absolutely wanted to go to Europe with him. But this time, this tour, he wanted it to be different. He wanted Mike to want him, and not as a security blanket. He looked toward the front of the bus, confirming they were still alone. He dropped his voice anyway.

“Mike. Why do you want me to come? Do you want me to come because you’re scared to be alone, trying to do this, still? Or do you want me to come because you want _me_ there?” There was a big difference in tagging along to keep Mike sane, and going to Europe because he was wanted, and Rob wasn’t going to interpret the answer. He wanted to hear from Mike’s mouth what he wanted.

Mike stopped, his eyes on Rob. He seemed to take an eternity to answer, and Rob held his breath while he waited. “I want you to come,” Mike said. “We’ll go out on the off days and explore. We’ll have a great time.” The unspoken words - that this time he’d be in a better place mentally - hung in the air between them as Mike promised fun and adventure the second time around. 

They had been so many places in the world over the years, and yet Rob knew there was so much still to see. It would be impossible to see everything in every city they toured, and no matter where they went, there would be something new to find. New places to explore, places where they could make their own memories. Rob found himself nodding before he could give it any more thought, or dissect the hidden meaning behind every word Mike said. “Okay. If you want to keep going, I’ll come.”

Mike’s smile reached his eyes for the first time that Rob could remember in over a year. “I’ll tell Jim,” he said excitedly. “He can let the guys in L.A. know before we even have lunch today.” He glanced at his watch. “He can have it waiting for them when they get into the office.” He stood up, his mug in his hands still, with the confidence of someone who rarely heard the word ‘no’ these days. “I’m going to the other bus. I’ve got to talk to Matt and Dan. Make sure they’re on board. And then Jim can get the ball rolling. I’ll be back,” he assured Rob. “Before Ed even gets here with breakfast, I’ll be back.”

Rob nodded, watching Mike as he practically bounced out of the bus. It was a far cry from the Mike who had sat in his studio, crying into Rob’s shoulder at the prospect of embarking on the same tour they were finishing in just a few hours. He pondered it briefly before he stood up and ambled toward the front of the bus. More coffee was in order, and then breakfast. _And then whatever Mike has in mind before tonight. It’s cold here._ He looked out the window. Even though the sun was shining, he could tell it was cold just from how the sky looked. It wasn’t the same as L.A.

He poured another cup and sat down to wait on Mike, his stomach grumbling at the prolonged emptiness. Already he was thinking of the places they would go and all of the things they would see on a European tour. Rob had always loved Europe, and the idea of exploring with Mike was something to look forward to now. 

When Mike popped back onto the bus, breathless and excited, Ed was right behind him. “Bourdie, Ed says there’s a record store down the strip. He already talked with the shop, they’re gonna let us go in the back. Come on, we have to go!”

It took a minute for Rob’s mind to switch gears from Europe to record stores. He knew there was no point in saying no, but he was hungry. “Breakfast first, Shinoda. You have to tell me what Jim said about Europe anyway.” He looked into the pastry box after Ed had taken his selection and disappeared. He plucked out a cake donut rolled in sugar and cinnamon and looked up at Mike. “Come on. Breakfast first. We never eat this stuff, enjoy it.”

Mike slid into the seat across from Rob and took an awfully long time looking at the selection of donuts in front of him before taking a raspberry filled and putting it on his napkin. “Jim said we might could do Europe. He’s gonna get the guys on it when they get in, like I said. He looked at me like I was crazy, but he’s up for it. And so are Dan and Matt. They don’t have anything on the calendar yet, so it might happen.” 

Mike bit down into his donut, and red raspberry filling gushed out of the side. Rob watched him lick it away from the corner of his mouth and forced his thoughts to construct a conversation with Mike instead of envisioning scenarios where he was licking the filling from Mike’s mouth. “Um… that’s good. Really good. Management will make it happen, so I guess we better start planning for another tour.”

They ate together quietly, and then Mike sighed and sat back in his seat. Rob’s eyes were on him instantly. “What?” he asked.

“It’s all just crazy, you know?” he said, scratching at his beard. “All of this. I feel like I’ve just been making it up as I go this whole time, ever since I realized I’d written all these songs. There was never a plan past getting all that darkness out of my head. And look. This tour has been a success, and we’re planning another.” Mike looked out the window at the back of the venue and the strip of shops where they were parked. “I’ve just been riding the wave, seeing where it goes. It’s turned out better than I could have ever imagined. And you know what that tells me? There’s life after him, Bourdie. I’ve still got the rest of my life ahead of me. I don’t want to waste it.”

Rob had steadily worked his way through the first donut and was ready to reach for another one, but he stopped to give Mike his undivided attention. It felt like this realization Mike was having was a pivotal moment for not just him, but _them_ , and he wanted to be completely aware of every subtlety. “You’ve got a lot left to offer the world, Mike. Your worth isn’t tied up in someone else.” He looked over into the box and took another cinnamon sugar donut. “I know it felt like it, when the band made it big, that we only made it because of Chester. But it was the six of us Mike, and don’t forget how important you are. Chester was always a showman, and he took that spotlight, which I always thought was okay with you. It makes sense, just on the professional side, to feel a little lost. But for someone making it up as they go, you’ve done a hell of a job.”

He looked up to see the flush on Mike’s cheeks and it was hard to look back down at the donut. “You deserve to be happy, Mike. I hope you know he would want this for you.”

“I know he would.” Mike looked down at his donut. He couldn’t help but think of the times he and Chester had eaten donuts on tour. Some places they were delicious and others so bad it was comical. It was obvious that he would never stop thinking about his lover, his best friend, his bandmate, in his every day life. But holding on to the grief didn’t mean he loved Chester more. Loving Chester meant loving himself enough to let go of that grief. 

Mike lowered his voice. “You were right when you said he’d always be here, and I hope you know that my memories of him, my love for him, aren’t in the way of me moving forward. Whichever way that goes, whatever turns it takes.”

Rob nodded, encouraging Mike to go on as he ate his donut, but Mike fell silent. He was waiting on Rob to say something, methodically working his way around the raspberry filled donut and trying to keep the mess at a minimum. As the silence stretched longer, and they both finished eating, Rob simply said nothing else. There was nothing to be said that they hadn’t explored weeks ago.

He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “Let’s go check out your record store,” he offered, nodding toward the door. “No need to wait for Europe. We’ll start our exploring together now.” 

**

Mike had come back from the record store with fourteen new vinyls, and Rob had purchased only one. They laughed about the difference in their approach. Mike bought anything that struck him as interesting. Rob only bought what he knew he would enjoy. After that the crew had lunch as discussed the night ahead, and before he knew it, the final show was happening. 

From backstage that night, Rob could hear the difference from the shows before this one. The energy in the venue was electric, and it was spilling over into everyone’s reactions. Jim was beaming and the techs and the roadies were celebrating already. Rob could feel the difference in the air, in the way that Mike was addressing the crowd between songs, and slowly the feeling that tonight was _the_ night came over him. 

So like he always did, Rob Bourdon sat backstage, hidden from the view of everyone but Mike, and watched. The long hair from the morning on the bus was hidden under a hat, a yellow and blue flannel open over Mike’s t-shirt. He watched the way Mike moved, the way he traversed the stage and engaged the fans. Like most nights, Rob’s hands and feet twitched in time with the songs, even the new ones. It wasn’t something he consciously realized, the drumming that was so ingrained in his body. He was enjoying the show too, anxiously waiting for the slow middle, the calm remembrance of Chester.

One thing Chester had always been good about was thanking the crew on their tours, and it didn’t surprise Rob when Mike started out talking by having the crowd cheer for the crew, then for the new people in their entourage. What did surprise him was that sentiment moved into Mike thanking the fans for allowing him to be an artist, to have a platform, and to express his gratitude for them pulling him up through the last crazy year and a half. Rob’s heart beat faster as Mike talked about his journey, which ended there in that moment with them, and then he simply stated, “now let’s make some noise for Chester.”

There was no story, no bittersweet reminiscence of their bandmate, of Mike’s lover. Just a celebration of who he was and all he meant to every single person in the venue. The applause, the chant of Chester’s name was thunderous, and Rob could feel the vibration in his seat as he watched Mike with rapt attention, noting how he smiled, and with his eyes closed, leaned his head back to face the heavens. 

Everything after that was a blur.

Confetti at the end.

Everyone scrambling to the stage to take the applause with Mike.

Mike’s eyes meeting his when he finally left the stage for the final time.

It was all a haze as Rob processed what the night meant for them. He couldn’t think of a clearer way for Mike to say _I’m ready_ than the simple celebration of Chester that night, and Rob had been ready for years.

What Rob wasn’t ready for was the after party, the way Mike’s favorite brand of rum wasn’t in short supply, and the celebration that kept him from acknowledging what only he knew had happened out on stage. They were across the bus from each other when Mike went live on Instagram, and Rob stayed quiet behind his second glass of the amber liquid. Mike was on a high, and Rob silently soaked it all up, watching, waiting.

It was well after three am when the kids in Don Broco went to their bus and Dan and Matt retreated as well. Jim was the last person off their bus, giving Mike a giant bear hug before he disappeared down the steps. Suddenly they were alone, and though Rob had been waiting for it all night, he felt unprepared as he put down his glass next to Mike’s and turned to see what had happened to Ed. He was in the back lounge and Rob hoped he would stay there for a few minutes.

He and Mike were side by side on the bench seat in the front of the bus, across from the small table and the kitchenette. Rob looked over at Mike, taking in the glow on his face and the relaxed warmth two glasses of rum had brought to his body. They were close, but not touching, and Rob felt the space intensely. “You tired?” he asked softly, smiling at the way Mike’s long hair was flattened against his scalp from the hat he’d had on during the show. Rob had no idea where it was now.

“A little.” Mike returned Rob’s smile with a soft one of his own. Reality was a little out of focus, but he could see Rob, and that was what he wanted now that everything had calmed down. Rob, with his long hair trying to cover his glasses, his beard longer than Mike had ever seen it. He looked at the gray hair and wondered where the last twenty years had gone. 

Rob gauged Mike’s drunkenness quickly, deciding that he was only tipsy and relaxed, but not drunk. Mike was happy, and it showed. He dared to reach over and rest his hand on Mike’s thigh. “I’m proud of you, Mike. It’s been a great tour.” 

Mike looked down at Rob’s hand before he said, “thanks. I’m glad you’re here.” He inched closer, letting Rob’s hand slide up his leg a little. “You want to know something?”

Rob nodded his head, his stomach feeling nervous as the color rose on Mike’s already flushed cheeks. Despite the hat hair, despite the hastily put on post-show t-shirt and the lack of a shower, Mike was beautiful. Rob could hear his heart beating in his ears, the way it always happened when Mike was this close, when they were alone.

“I keep thinking, maybe tonight will be the night you’ll kiss me back.” 

The moment Mike uttered those words, Rob could feel his willpower slipping, even though he knew they weren’t alone. Ed was mere footsteps away, and though they couldn’t see him, it would only take seconds for him to be at the front of the bus. It was all risky, but the hand on Mike’s leg tingled at the contact, and Rob licked his lips involuntarily. “Oh yeah?” he whispered, sliding his hand up Mike’s thigh a little more. He was only inches away from Mike’s crotch, and Rob heard Mike inhale sharply before he looked up. Mike’s eyes were dark, enticing as they sparkled flirtatiously at him. 

Rob had never been good at flirting. It wasn’t in the nature of someone like him, someone so quiet and unassuming. Someone content to hide behind his drums for years. He wanted to be good at it, but in this moment, Rob knew it didn’t matter. His personality leaned toward directness, not flirtatiousness, and if Mike wanted him, it was for who he was. Rob Bourdon couldn’t be more different from Chester Bennington if he’d tried, but Mike still wanted him, and for the first time, Rob didn’t feel like that desire was misplaced. He didn’t feel like it had anything to do with Chester, loneliness, or even the rum they’d both had to drink. Mike was happy, and Rob was part of that. 

He leaned closer, gratified when Mike’s eyes closed, but he paused to study Mike’s face. His other hand went to Mike’s chin, his finger underneath and his thumb right under Mike’s full bottom lip. Rob’s heart was thundering now, but he wanted to be certain. He didn’t see anything but supplication in Mike’s expression, and as he closed the space between them, his eyes closed as well. 

The first kiss was tentative, just a soft suckle at Mike’s bottom lip, and Rob heard the whimper that came from the other man. His hand was clutched on to Mike’s thigh and his other hand slid down Mike’s neck, where Mike caught it and held it tightly against his chest. Their lips separated, and Rob pulled back only to have Mike chase him, reconnecting their lips again. This time he sucked and pulled at Rob’s bottom lip, running his tongue over the soft skin, asking for permission to enter.

Rob’s hand went the rest of the way up Mike’s leg, his thumb wedged into the crease and his fingers splayed over the outside of his hip, pulling him closer as his lips parted and he allowed Mike inside. His tongue was slick and warm and tasted like the sweet rum they’d been drinking, and Rob’s adrenaline shot through the roof. Every part of him wanted to take control and press Mike back into the bench seat, but restraint was something Rob was good at. 

He didn’t know why he was surprised when that kiss broke and their eyes met, and he could see the full on arousal, the way Mike’s pupils were dilated and the way his breaths were rapid and shallow. Rob didn’t second guess the urge to run his hand up Mike’s neck and pull him back, cupping his large hand around the back of Mike’s head and holding him close as he took the lead, as Mike’s mouth opened wide and the kiss went deep. It was moments of total bliss, of the two of them trading control back and forth until Rob _did_ push him back slightly, and he felt Mike’s hand drop down his chest and onto his belt.

Rob pulled back, admiring the way Mike’s lips were already swollen and the way they glistened from the combination of their saliva, and as much as he wanted to see those lips on the part of his body that Mike was about to uncover, he shook his head. “Not here, Mike,” he whispered, leaning close to Mike’s ear. “You don’t want our first time like this, trying to be quiet so Ed doesn’t hear us.” He dipped his tongue into Mike’s ear, letting his breath fan out nice and hot over his lobe. He felt Mike clutch at his belt. “ _Stop,_ ” Rob ordered in a whisper. “I haven’t waited years for this moment only to fuck you on a tour bus.” 

The sharp giggle from Mike was as unexpected as the fact that he’d just told Mike he wanted to fuck him, and it was apparent Mike hadn’t been prepared for that either as they looked at each other. “Who says you’re the one doing the fucking?” Mike asked in a sly whisper, sliding his hand around Rob’s waist to his back, and staying there, nice and safe, away from places that would get them into trouble.

“Please,” Rob huffed in a matching whisper. “I see how you look at me, Mike. Don’t tell me you don’t want me to bend you over right now and fuck you senseless.”

Mike’s eyes widened as they looked at each other. “I don’t think I ever knew you were so… aggressive,” he managed to say. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

“You don’t have any idea,” Rob said, sitting back and letting Mike go. Both of them were panting, and Rob could feel the wet spot on the front of his underwear. His cock hadn’t missed the fact that he was kissing Mike, and keeping things under control was more of a challenge than he’d expected. Rob hadn’t anticipated Mike getting under his skin so quickly - but then, twenty years was a long time to lust for someone. “Not here, Mike, and even if we were somewhere else, not yet. Twenty years,” he reminded the man so close to him Rob could smell the desire coming off him. “Twenty years I’ve thought about you. I’m not rushing to get to the finish line.”

Mike nodded, speechless, and sat up, straightening his t-shirt. “Go shower and go to bed, Mike,” Rob said softly, taking Mike’s hand and putting it over his heart. “Close your curtain and sleep. We’ll be at the airport in the morning, and home soon. We’ll be home and _alone._ ” 

Rob watched Mike nod again before he stood up. “Good night, Mike,” he called at the retreating form of the man he wanted to consume more than anyone in his past. Waiting was going to be painful.

“‘Night, Bourdie.” Mike disappeared into the small bathroom and Rob let out a sigh, burying his head in his crossed arms on the table and trying to calm himself down. By dinner time tomorrow they would be back in L.A., and nothing was going to stop him from doing more than kissing Mike Shinoda. All of a sudden, he was ready to go home.

****  
TBC


	12. Lift Off

Rob didn’t sleep after Mike disappeared into his bunk. He showered, and thought about laying down, but his body was too wired to rest. It was close to four am anyway, and they were to be dropped off at the airport at eight. There was no sense in trying to fall asleep, only to have to wake up again so soon.

He didn’t bother with pajamas. Fully dressed for the morning, he sat at the small table with his head in his hands, wondering what had come over him. _Who says that? Drunk or not?_ Rob shook his head. He hadn’t been drunk. He had been loose, and so was Mike, but that was no excuse for talking about bending Mike over and fucking him senseless. With a grimace he ran his hand over his face and put his glasses back on, adjusting them to stay where he liked on his nose. _It’s just one more thing we have to talk about. There’s always something to talk about, which is the right thing to do, but sometimes I wish we could just do what we want._

There were too many things - people mostly - in the mix to just do what he wanted, though, and Rob Bourdon knew it. It was selfish to bring it all down to just himself and Mike, anyway. There was the band, and Mike’s family, and Rob had no idea what was happening with either of those very important pieces of Mike’s life. For whatever reason, Mike was keeping the details of his split with Anna quiet, and that included from him. _I should ask about that. If we’re going to get into a relationship, I should know what’s going on with Anna and the kids. I should know stuff like that. Why hasn’t he told me anything?_

Rob lifted his head and looked toward the bunks. It was tempting to go drag Mike out of bed right then and ask, but he wouldn’t. Years of experience told him that traveling with Mike on little sleep wasn’t fun, and no sleep was infinitely worse. He had no desire to poke the bear at the moment. It would all have to wait until morning, which was now only a few hours away. 

The warm effects of the rum had long since worn off, and Rob wanted some coffee. He was quiet, moving around the kitchenette with ease, leaning against the counter while he waited. There was a certain rhythm to the hum of the road rushing by under his feet, every second bringing them closer to the airport, and back home. He’d kissed Mike, talked dirty in his ear, and the moment of reckoning would come much faster than he wanted. Rob sighed as he poured coffee into a mug and went back to the table. 

He couldn’t take back what he’d said, and he didn’t necessarily want to. There was no denying that every part of him _did_ want to strip Mike down, but not in the hasty way he’d all but implied earlier. He wanted to take his time. Uncover and discover each part of Mike’s skin little by little. It didn’t matter he’d seen Mike naked before. They’d all seen each other in various stages of undress through the years, and naked, but it had never meant anything. Not the way it would when Rob laid him down and kissed him all over, memorizing the way Mike felt and smelled and reacted to everything.

Rob blew out a breath and looked toward Mike’s bunk again, wondering if he was asleep and hoping that he was. He hoped Mike was sleeping off the night and in a few hours he’d be thinking clearer, too. Neither of them wanted a quick fuck, despite what had been said, and Rob was ready to take Mike home with a mutual understanding that they didn’t need to rush. He didn’t want to mess this up, and despite the obvious fact that Mike was better, that he seemed ready to live his life, Rob knew moving too fast could end in disaster.

He sipped at his coffee and rolled his eyes. _How much slower can I go? Twenty years… I’ve held a torch for him for twenty years._

He remembered Mike in high school, and how worldly he seemed compared to Rob. Those extra two years made a big difference, and when Mike and his friend Mark were ready to start the band, it hadn’t taken much for Rob to say yes. Or to stutter a yes. He’d had the biggest crush on Mike Shinoda ever since he’d first seen him in the school theater production. Mike was the upperclassmen, confident, attractive, and good at everything. Rob was just a sophomore and painfully shy, hiding behind his drums until he was needed. Mike was always the one with the big plans, and Rob had gone along with whatever Mike dreamed up. He was the driving force behind all of it, and the years had passed while Rob watched Mike’s shoulders and chest broaden slightly, watched him pierce his ears and grow a scruffy goatee because that was all he could grow at the time. He watched Mike hide his slender body in clothes four times too big, and Rob never imagined anything like Linkin Park would come of Mike’s dreams. He stayed only because he wanted to stay close to Mike.

 _And here we are. All these years later, and he’s looking at me that way. The way I’ve always wanted him to look at me… and I don’t know what to do next._ When Rob looked down into his mug, he was surprised to find it almost empty. He’d been lost in thoughts of his younger years with Mike longer than he thought. The sun was starting to illuminate the horizon, and he reached over to lift the privacy shade on the window. There was only a warm orange glow where the sky met the earth, and Rob sat back to watch it, thinking.

He heard when Mike’s alarm went off. It brought him out of the trance he’d been in, watching the sunrise, and sent a tingle of anticipation through him. Rob waited, and before long heard the sound of Mike hopping down from the bunk and retreating to the bathroom. It was his cue to get up and start fresh coffee, and wait some more. 

To his surprise, Mike came out of the bathroom fully dressed, his eyes bright and excited. “Ooh, you made coffee already, thanks.” He slid past Rob, letting the fingers of his left hand trail along Rob’s back softly. “I’m so awake right now,” he went on, pouring a cup and then turning to pour more in Rob’s without asking. “I know I’ll pass out as soon as we get on the plane, but right now I’m just so ready to go home.” Mike looked over at Rob, who was speechless. 

Mike’s light touch had turned butterflies loose in Rob’s stomach. The last thing he’d been expecting was a fully awake and cheerful version of the same man who routinely woke up crabby on tour. Rob took his mug and followed Mike back to the table where he’d been sitting all night, sliding into the seat across from him. “You slept well, I guess?” Rob asked quietly, adjusting his glasses and pushing his hair behind his ears. 

“I did. Wasn’t long, but I was out.” Mike drank his coffee with a smile playing over his lips, watching Rob closely. “Did you sleep at all? I didn’t hear you come to bed.” 

“It wasn’t worth it. By the time I showered it was close to four.” Rob looked at his watch. “It’s seven-fifteen now. You know we’re supposed to be at the airport by eight.” His eyes raked over Mike, who looked comfortable in his zip up black hoodie, the hood over his head and his hands almost swallowed by the length of the arms. 

“So you just stayed up? I can’t do that.” Mike shook his head. “I’d be a complete ass with no sleep.” 

“I know.” Rob shot Mike a good natured grin right as they heard Ed mumble good morning before he went into the bathroom. Rob knew he’d be out for coffee in a minute, wide awake and ready to hover at Mike’s elbow the entire way through the airport. “I think we land in L.A. around one, if I looked at the itinerary correctly.”

“Yeah. I’m so ready to be home for a while, in my own bed.” Mike looked down, watching his thumbs rub over the rim of the coffee mug. His pause caused Rob to lean in closer across the table, as though Mike were about to reveal a secret. “Are you coming back to my place?” he asked tentatively, and Rob was surprised at the hesitation in Mike’s voice.

Until that moment, there had been no question in Rob’s mind that he would be going back to Mike’s, sliding right back into the routine they’d been in before tour. Now he wasn’t exactly sure what Mike wanted. “I think we’ve got some more things to talk about,” Rob answered carefully, watching Mike’s face. “But I’ll go where you want. I do need to go check on my house, make sure Dave kept up with things. I’ll come back, if you want me.” It was a statement that held more than one meaning, and Rob’s stomach was nervous, waiting for Mike to answer. He watched Mike fidget with his coffee cup and then look up at him with dark eyes.

“Yeah, I want you,” Mike said quietly, his cheeks blushing slightly. “I know you need to go to your place, but I’d like it if we could… talk. Tonight.”

Rob nodded, his eyes locked into MIke’s, the words _I want you_ ringing in his ears. “I’ll come back. And whatever is on your mind, we’ll talk about it. All of it,” he promised. He didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Ed reappeared, launching into instructions and helping himself to coffee before he or Mike could get a word in edgewise. 

With a reassuring smile, Rob got up from the table. “Here, you can sit down,” he offered to Ed. “I’m going to make sure I’ve got everything out of my bunk before we get to the airport.” He could feel Mike’s eyes on him as he rinsed his mug and set it aside. He’d bought himself a little time by needing to go to his house, but it wasn’t a lot. Time was ticking away, and Rob knew he had to figure out his next move… quickly. 

**

Separating at the airport in L.A. was easier than Rob thought it would be, and he watched Mike and Jim get into one Uber as he stood with Ed, waiting. It made Rob a little uncomfortable to be alone with the bodyguard, but Ed didn’t say anything to indicate he’d seen or overheard anything between him and Mike. He was relieved to say his goodbyes and climb into his own ride, leaving Ed on the curb at LAX. _He’s another person we would have to tell if we really start something, since I’m going to Europe with Mike. I wonder if he knew about Mike and Chester. I wonder if he’ll even be surprised._

The thought that Mike’s bodyguard might have known, and even helped Chester and Mike cover their affair, was unsettling. Rob stared out the window of his ride, trying to decide how he felt about everything now that it was finally happening. He reasoned it was normal to feel nervous, to be apprehensive about everything, especially not knowing who in their circle knew about Mike and Chester’s affair. _That’s another question I’ll need to ask,_ Rob decided, making a mental note to do exactly that later. 

He didn’t waste time at home checking on things, and was pleased to see his brother was still a trustworthy caretaker. As soon as he was finished with the necessary checks, Rob sat down on the back patio by the pool and called Dave first, and then his mother, before calling Brad. He glanced at his watch while the phone rang - he’d spent an hour on the phone with his brother and mother combined, but he needed to talk to Brad, too, before he headed back to Mike’s. When Brad picked up, Rob could hear children shrieking in the background.

“Bourdie! You guys home?” Brad answered the phone, slightly out of breath.

“Yeah, landed a couple of hours ago,” Rob said, a smile playing at his lips. “You sound like you’re dying,” he offered.

“Soccer.” Rob heard Brad cover the phone with his hand and beg, “give me a minute, five minutes, you guys.”

Rob laughed. “They’re kicking your skinny ass, aren’t they?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe. It’s ridiculous for kids to have this much energy.” Brad paused, pulling out a chair to drop into for the remaining four minutes he had to rest. “How was it?”

“Oh, you know. Rough at first, but it got better. I think Mike’s starting to accept things the way they are, now.” Rob reached up and scratched the side of his face, ready to go on, but Brad beat him to it.

“So you’re thinking he can handle being on his own? It’s good to hear.”

“Well, if you’re asking without asking if I’m going back over to his place, then, yeah, I am.” Rob closed his eyes for a moment. He’d thought about talking to Brad the entire flight home, but now he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say. “He asked me to come back.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and then Brad called out, “guys! I’m going inside for a minute!” Rob could hear the kids calling out to their dad, and then nothing as the door closed behind Brad.

“He asked you to come back in the _I don’t trust myself to be alone_ way, or he asked you to come back in… a _different_ way.” 

Rob knew exactly what Brad was implying with the word _different_. “That’s the thing. I don’t _think_ it’s just because he’s lonely. We talked about that on tour. About us. You know we’ve always been close… and maybe there might be something more there,” Rob admitted quietly. He wasn’t afraid of Brad’s reaction, he was genuinely curious what their friend thought.

“Damn, Bourdie,” Brad breathed. “Be careful with that. You know the ink on their divorce isn’t even dry yet.”

It was shock to hear that Brad’s concern was Anna, not Chester. “Oh. Right.” His head tilted to the side as he stared out over the pool. “I haven’t even talked to him about that.”

“And the kids,” Brad supplied helpfully as his oldest poked his head in the back door and called for him. “You ready to be a step-dad?” Brad teased, shooing Jonah back into the yard. 

“We haven’t talked about that,” Rob admitted, his stomach feeling nervous again. He loved Mike’s kids, but hearing the phrase _step-dad_ was jarring.

“Sounds like you haven’t talked about much,” Brad decided before he asked, “what _did_ you talk about this whole time?”

“Chester.” Rob looked down, picking at his jeans. “We talked a lot about Chester.” There was a long silence, and Rob closed his eyes.

“You think he’s ready? Bourdie, I don’t want you to get hurt.” The concern in Brad’s voice was obvious, even over the phone.

Rob blew out a slow breath. “I know. I really think, as far as Chester is concerned, that he’s ready to be happy again. I know it’s not going to be easy, and maybe I’m stupid for thinking I could be the one to make him happy.” He shrugged, even though Brad couldn’t see him. 

“I really hope you know what you’re doing.” 

Rob knew Brad wasn’t intentionally trying to be negative, but his anxiety was higher now than it had been that morning, waiting for Mike to wake up. “Thanks, Delson,” he said drily, “I’m not even sure now why I thought calling you would be helpful.”

“You know you love me. I’m always the dissenting opinion. Sometimes that ends up being the best thing, and sometimes I’m just a pain in the ass. I hope for your sake I’m just being a pain in the ass this time.” 

“Me, too.” Rob stood up and headed for the back door. “I’ll be in touch. Don’t let the kids wear you out,” he advised, and they said their goodbyes. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping to accomplish by calling Brad, but the feeling he had after talking to him wasn’t it. _I wasn’t looking for his blessing. Not really. Encouragement, maybe. Brad’s always the person who sees the negatives, and he brought up some good points about Mike’s family. Those are things we do really need to talk about before things go further. Or before they go anywhere. They haven’t been anywhere yet._

There was a part of Rob that was still wanting to stall, to wait before going back to Mike’s, and he decided to take advantage of being alone for a little while longer. He showered and trimmed his beard and did everything he could to waste time before he left for Mike’s. It was nice that the Range Rover fired right up, and Rob knew Dave had taken it out faithfully every few days to make sure the battery didn’t die. All of the things that the other guy’s wives typically took care of on tour, Rob’s brother had taken care of for years. He was grateful for his help, and wondered briefly what his brother would think of him and Mike together before he decided that didn’t matter at the moment. There were still hurdles to cross before he and Mike were _together_.

 _All this time I thought Chester was the biggest thing we had to deal with, but I was wrong._ The idea of being with Mike and the reality of being with Mike were starting to become two separate things. There was much more at stake than the memories of Chester to come to terms with, and Rob knew tonight was the night for that discussion. _It has to be tonight, before anything goes too far. I don’t know what he wanted to talk about, but this probably isn’t it. Well, whether he wants to talk about it or not, I have to draw that line now._

When he got to Mike’s, he let himself into the house with the key he’d had for months. It surprised him that Mike was downstairs, not in the studio, sitting on the couch with the tv remote in his hand, staring blankly at the picture. Rob didn’t stop to see what he was watching. “I’m here,” he said simply, and Mike’s eyes turned to meet him.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming back,” Mike finally said, pulling his legs in closer and tucking his feet into the crack in the cushions to make room for Rob to sit down. “Everything okay at the house?”

“Yeah. I took the time to call Dave and my mom. And Brad,” Rob offered, plopping down on the couch next to Mike. They were close, but not touching, and Mike’s feet were between them. “He says hello, by the way.”

Mike turned to look at Rob expectantly. “Well, that’s good.” 

“I told him the tour went well. I didn’t mention Europe. I figured you might want to do that.” Rob pushed his hair back from his face and looked at the television. It was some old horror movie he couldn’t quite place, and it seemed like an odd choice for the evening.

Mike’s eyebrows crinkled at the thought of telling the other guys about the European tour he’d suddenly decided to embark on. He hadn’t even asked them what they thought. “Sure. I guess I should probably do that,” he offered, but didn’t say anything else. 

Rob waited, to see if Mike was going to bring up whatever he’d wanted to talk about earlier in the day, but Mike stayed silent. “Oh, and he asked about Anna and the kids. I wasn’t sure what to say,” Rob admitted, looking over at Mike. “You haven’t said much about them.”

This wasn’t how Mike pictured the evening, and it was starting to feel like a lot, when they were only minutes into the conversation. He hadn’t really planned to _talk_ but it was obvious Rob hadn’t understood his implication. Mike untucked his feet from the couch and stood up to pace over to the windows. “It’s hard to talk about. We talk about so much heavy stuff already, Bourdie. I just wanted a break.”

Rob could tell he was pushing Mike’s buttons, but he couldn’t make himself stop. It was all too important. “You said you wanted to talk,” he started. “Well, if you and I are going to be together, Mike, we’re going to have to talk about it. And honestly, you’d have to talk to Anna about us. I’m not in this for a casual fling, Mike. I’m almost forty. You’re forty-one. If we can’t be who we want to be, and openly be together, at this point in our lives, then it’s not the right thing. I’m not going to hide away from everyone with you.”

“That sounds like an ultimatum,” Mike said immediately, his voice tight as he looked out into the back yard and the last bits of sunlight filtering through the leaves on the trees. “I’ve just gotten Anna to come to terms with the fact that Chester and I were in love. Now you want me to throw this on her, too?”

“I want you to own up to what you want, and what makes you happy,” Rob answered gently, staying put on the couch and watching Mike’s shoulders from behind. He could see the tension in them. “I’ve loved you far too long to be your dirty secret, Mike. And I respect you and myself too much to let this play out that way. If you can’t own it, then you’re not ready. No matter what you’ve tried to make me believe.”

Mike spun around, his eyes narrowed in a glare he shot right at Rob. “Tell me how we go from you wanting to fuck me on the bus to this.” He motioned toward Rob with one hand. “I really thought you were going to come in here and we were going to pick up where we left off last night. This morning,” he corrected. “I guess you talked to everyone and they told you what a bad idea this was, and now you’re having second thoughts?” he bit out, his heart hurting at the imagined rejection. 

“Listen to yourself,” Rob said incredulously, standing up to confront Mike at the windows. “You know you don’t want that. You seriously wanted me to come in here and act like we don’t have years of friendship between us, that all this is, is a casual fuck?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Mike argued. “I just didn’t think we were going get into all this heavy stuff right now. I don’t want to think about it, I can’t…” He looked away again. “I wanted you to just take control of the whole situation with us. I don’t want to think.”

Rob shook his head. “It’s not supposed to be that way. One person in control. This is supposed to be what we both want.” 

“I told you I wanted you. And I _wanted_ you to come in here and take me upstairs and we could just forget about everything else for a little while.” The challenge in Mike’s eyes was evident, and Rob shook his head. 

“You want me to force your hand? You think you’d feel better about moving on if it all comes down to an _in the moment_ decision, something passionate you felt like you had no choice in? I’m not going to do that.” He reached out and grabbed Mike’s biceps, his large hands wrapping easily around them to haul Mike in close. He tightened his grip on Mike’s arms and watched him wince. “I could. I could take you upstairs right now and have my way with you, and you know it.”

He let go and stepped back, his heart pounding as Mike looked at him, his eyes dark with lust. “I’m not going to do it. You say you want me, Mike, but it’s got to be for the right reasons. And I’m not convinced it is unless you want to start talking about how I fit into your life. You’ve got kids and a wife still. Tell me what’s going on with your divorce and what your vision for us is, right now and in the future. Stop hiding from all of that.” 

They stared at each other for a minute, and finally Mike dropped his eyes. “I didn’t want to think about it,” he whispered, his eyes on the floor and Rob’s bare feet. “Not my marriage, or the kids, or Ches… I just want this to be easy, and it’s not. I don’t want the rest of it to matter. Why can’t we just make our own world?” He reached out and took a fist full of Rob’s shirt in his hand. 

“We could,” Rob said softly. “But it doesn’t work like that. It would for a little while, but the other part can’t be ignored. When I went to Portugal, it was to escape all of this. Chester, the band… you. It didn’t work. Feeling better was temporary. Coming home and facing everything was important. You know that.” Rob reached for Mike’s hand, loosening his grip and then lacing their fingers together before he wrapped his other arm around Mike’s shoulders and pulled him close. “We can make our own world but those other people are part of it. And Mike, that’s okay. It’s a good thing. You don’t really want to erase the past, I know you don’t.”

Mike nestled his head into Rob’s shoulder and sighed as he let himself he held. “No, I don’t. Not really.” 

Rob kissed the side of Mike’s head, his lips lost in the clean, damp hair. He knew Mike had taken a shower, too. It would be so easy to go upstairs and fall into bed with each other. They’d both been thinking about it, that much was obvious. But Rob couldn’t do it. Not yet. 

Mike lifted his head and reached for Rob’s face, running his fingers over the long beard there. “I know he’s gone, and I don’t have anything to feel guilty about with you. I want to be close with you. I want you here and I want this to be good for both of us.” He paused and then kissed Rob so softly, so quickly. “I’ll tell Anna. We can tell the guys. If you can accept that sometimes I won’t make sense, if you can be okay saving me from myself, I can tell them.”

Rob returned the kiss, light on Mike’s warm lips. “I’ve been ready, Mike.” He stepped back, letting Mike go. “Come on. Come tell me how things are going with the divorce and we’ll plan how to tell the guys. I know you’ve got tea and before you know it, it will be time for bed.” He started toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “if you play your cards right, I might even let you sleep in my bed tonight.”

Mike didn’t hesitate to follow, and Rob didn’t have to look behind him to know that he had. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was in control, and they were going do this his way. They were going to get it out in the open first, and then let the cards fall as they may. It was the only way to know for certain that Mike was ready to not only be his lover, but be his other half, and Rob wasn’t going to settle for anything less.

****  
TBC


	13. I.O.U.

Rob finished ladling the vegetarian chili he’d made into the two bowls on the counter next to the stove. Just a few minutes ago he’d heard Mike’s footsteps overhead, and he knew the other man was out of the shower. He put the lid back on the pot and shuffled over to the fridge in his socks to pull out the cheese, chives, and sour cream. Sour cream wasn’t his favorite, but Mike liked it, and Rob knew he’d put a dollop on the top of the chili when he came down to eat. 

_I’ll just save him the trouble,_ Rob decided, opening the container of cheese he’d shredded earlier. The chili was steaming and the cheese started to melt immediately when he put a small mound on the top of Mike’s, and a sprinkle on his own. Chives were next, and then he opened the sour cream, making a face as he dipped a spoon inside the container. 

“What’s that face for?” Mike’s tone was amused when he came into the kitchen and saw Rob’s expression. He looked over the bar and took a deep breath. “Smells good. Your face says otherwise.”

“It’s sour cream,” Rob said, leaving a spoonful on top of the cheese. “Not my thing.” He looked up and smiled at Mike. He smelled fresh and clean, and looked relaxed in his black hoodie and joggers. “So how did it go?” 

Mike sat down on one of his barstools and scratched his hand over his cheek, along his facial hair. It made a soft scraping sound that Rob could hear, even though he was several feet away. “She’s still mad at me. I understand why, but she moved out almost a year ago.”

Rob replaced the cold items in the refrigerator and pulled out the beer he knew Mike would want. It didn’t surprise him to hear that Anna wasn’t happy with Mike still, but for some reason he’d thought Anna would be a little kinder about the circumstances by now. He grabbed an oven mitt to get the bread from the oven. “What did you talk about?” The bread was nicely browned, and Rob pulled it out without looking at Mike. His heart was beating a little faster waiting for him to answer.

“Property. Money. The kids.” Mike sighed and leaned back in the bar stool, grabbing his beer and twisting off the top. “I never got into a timeline with her when I told her about Chester, but she’s just making up stuff and believes every bit of it. And it’s like I _owe_ her, or something.” His head went back and he took a sip or two of the cold beverage before he narrowed his eyes and looked at the back of Rob’s head. “I mean, maybe I do. I never thought any of this would be happening.” He closed his eyes and dropped his head. 

Rob kept his focus on the crusty loaf of bread he was cutting up. “Didn’t you say you thought you would leave her at some point?” He knew Mike had mentioned that, one of the nights in the studio when he’d cried into his tea and talked about the plans he and Chester had made. Each chunk of bread when onto a platter until he was finished, then he turned around and set it on the bar, between Mike and the barstool he’d be sitting on shortly. 

“Eventually, I wanted to. It was more Ches holding things up on that front than me.” Mike shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter anymore. The thing now is, I don’t think I’ll be able to make Anna happy. She’s got all these ideas, and I guess she’s right. She’s been with me since before we made it big. I suppose I do owe her.” He snagged a piece of bread and started picking off bits to eat. His stomach was rumbling.

Rob could easily remember Anna in 1998. He remembered the heavy black eyeliner and white makeup, the black hair and chokers that went with her tight black dresses and black lipstick. It had never made any sense to him how Mike, with all his love of hip-hop influences, chose goth Anna as his partner. But it hadn’t been his decision to make. “So, no progress on the divorce front?”

Mike looked up from his bread sharply. “It’s been filed, if that’s what you’re asking.” He grabbed his beer for another sip, his eyes on Rob as the chili bowls were transferred over to the bar. “It’s probably going be messy and I can’t blame her for that. She’s hurt. It would have been ugly if I’d told her I was leaving back then, even without admitting the reason why. I guess I thought since she was the one that left she’d be more interested in getting it over with.”

They were quiet for a minute while Rob arranged his bowl and bread, and his glass of water. He was thinking, about how shocking it must have been for Anna to find out about Mike and Chester’s affair. Where he’d known for years, he was sure that Anna had no idea. It was interesting to realize that he was sympathetic to Anna’s feelings, and not just because they had been friends for decades. Rob knew what it felt like to be second to Chester. But there was a difference between his feelings and Anna’s, and it wasn’t just because Mike had stood in front of his entire family and friends and proclaimed to love her until death. The difference was, when Chester decided to end his life, Mike chose to be alone rather than fix his marriage. _And then he chose me._

Rob cleared his throat. “So did you tell her about us?” he asked, pushing his glasses up, even though they slipped again as he looked down into his chili bowl. If he’d been nervous a few minutes ago asking vaguely what the Shinodas had talked about, then he was about to have a full on panic attack at how asking that question clearly and directly made him feel. 

“I told you I would,” Mike answered indignantly. “I promised you that I could. I did. She wasn’t happy.” He decided to leave out the part where she’d angrily declared that _at least Rob doesn’t have kids you’re dragging into this mess_ and then asked if he was _just going to work his way through the band._ “I think she just hates the whole band now. She thinks you were all complicit in hiding mine and Chester’s… affair… and that you and I are just fucking around.” Mike picked up his spoon and smashed his sour cream down into the melted cheese, then stirred it into the chili. 

“She knows I’ve dated men before.” Rob dunked a chunk of bread into the chili and tasted it. It was pretty damn good, and even though it wasn’t cold outside, it was almost Thanksgiving. Chili was a staple of his diet from November to February. 

“She knows. She’s just lashing out.” Mike tried a spoonful of Rob’s dish and hummed his approval. “I would have never thought vegetarian chili would be good.”

They ate, discussing Anna a little more, and how she’d taken the news about Rob. Mike scraped the last of his chili from the bowl and then turned to look at Rob as he picked up his beer. “Once it’s settled she’ll be fine. We’ll get things ironed out with custody, and once it’s final the kids will be around more. Well, once we get back from Europe.” Mike frowned and stood up, taking his bowl to fill it with a second helping. “I’m pretty stuck with all of that. I need her to be flexible, since we don’t know how long this tour will last, or what’s happening with the band. It’s not like I can have them every other weekend all the time.”

It was Rob’s turn to look up and follow Mike’s movements around the kitchen while he retrieved the cheese and chives and sour cream again. “She didn’t have a problem with them coming here?”

“She doesn’t hate _you._ ” Mike said with a self-deprecating smile. “She hates _me_. And the court won’t give her a choice as far as them seeing me. _That_ part will be fine.” Mike glanced at Rob’s bowl. “Want more?” 

Rob pushed his bowl over. “Fill it up,” he decided. It had been a long day, an emotional one, one that he’d faced mostly alone. Mike had been away most of the late morning and all afternoon, and Rob had been too anxious to eat lunch. Though he regularly fasted, that was a choice he made mentally. Not eating because his emotions were all over the place was a different story. “Well, she knows. That’s one more thing to check off the list.”

The comment was meant to be lighthearted, but Mike scowled. “It’s like I’m earning the privilege of being with you.” He filled Rob’s bowl and pushed it back at him.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Rob restrained himself from rolling his eyes. They had talked at great length when they returned home from tour about moving forward with their relationship, and the things they needed from each other. Rob’s biggest desire was for things to be out in the open. That was all he’d asked from Mike. Telling Anna, then telling the band - that signaled a certain degree of maturity and commitment that Rob felt he needed in order to move into something more than emotional intimacy with Mike. “We both know you’re the prize, here.”

All of the rigidness in Mike’s body melted away and he leaned over the bar to take Rob’s hand. “You’re so ridiculous,” he said softly. “I’m definitely not a prize. I’m moody, I’m a control freak, and I’ll never understand how anyone can share a bed with me.”

“It _is_ really creepy how you sleep with your eyes open,” Rob teased, squeezing Mike’s hand. “Fortunately, I got over that on the first tour.” It had been the joke, back when Linkin Park was still traveling in a van, that whoever drew the short straw had to share a room with Mike. They had all been good sports, and everyone rotated who they paired with, but everyone had also been freaked out by the way Mike’s eyes never quite closed all the way at night. 

Mike shook his head and pulled away, grabbing another beer from the fridge before he sat down. “You guys were wimps about it. Scaredy cats.”

Rob’s mouth dropped open in mock protest. He pointed to his chest. “ _I_ never had a problem with your creepy eyes!”

“That’s because you were in love with me,” Mike teased lightly before he leaned close and pulled Rob into a spicy chili flavored kiss. When he pulled away Rob was smiling.

“Don’t get too cocky, Shinoda,” Rob teased back, his eyes and voice equally soft. “I’m not all yours yet. You’ve got Delson, Joe, and Phoenix still between you and domestic bliss.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Bradford. He’s the one most likely to freak out. I don’t think Joe or Phi will give a damn. They’ve been the most positive, supportive people since Chester died.” He stopped, a little awed at how easily the end of that sentence had rolled off his tongue. “I guess we’ll see tomorrow,” he finally said, stirring his new sour cream, cheese, and chili concoction together. 

Rob reached over and squeezed Mike’s knee. He knew exactly why Mike had paused, but no words needed to be said. He was there, and he understood. That was all that mattered. 

For the rest of the meal they chatted about places they wanted to visit in Europe, Dave’s _Member Guest_ podcast, and the photography showcase Joe was thinking about getting together. It was mostly relaxed and lighthearted, especially in comparison to the conversation about Anna they’d started dinner with. They cleaned up together, Rob putting away the leftovers and Mike rinsing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. By the time Mike wiped down the counters, Rob had rinsed out the beer bottles and dropped them in the recycling bin.

“You still want to watch that movie?” Mike asked, sounding a little bashful for the first time since he’d come down from his shower. 

Rob looked over at Mike. He was folding a dish towel and hanging it over the side of the sink, and his cheeks looked slightly pink. They’d discussed watching _Animal House_ earlier that morning, when Mike discovered it had returned to Netflix. What didn’t make sense was the blush on Mike’s cheeks. The movie was a comedy, after all, and an old one at that. “Yeah, works for me,” Rob said, watching Mike carefully while he fidgeted with the end of the towel. 

Mike nodded, and looked toward the living room. They always watched movies in the living room. Rob on one couch, Mike on the other. On the way home from Anna’s he’d been thinking about that arrangement, and Rob’s conditions, and the thought crossed his mind that maybe talking to Anna was enough reassurance that he was in this relationship for real. Mike’s hand went up to scratch as his beard again, one cheek and then the other, while he looked back at Rob. “I know we usually watch down here, but I was thinking maybe we could watch upstairs. In bed.”

 _In bed._ Rob knew immediately why Mike was flushing and fidgeting. There was no television where Rob slept, in the guest room with the wine colored blanket and two pillows. The bed that Mike had slept in with him last night, though they’d fallen asleep facing each other and talking instead of touching. The bedroom with the television was the master suite, a place Rob hadn’t dared to invite himself in all the months he’d been staying at Mike’s. Those two words were all it took for his heart to race again. _In bed._

“Sure, we can do that,” he agreed, trying to keep his tone easy. “Give me a few minutes to go brush my teeth and stuff,” he said, waving Mike toward the stairs. “I’ll meet you in there. With my pillow.”

“What, you don’t think you’ll like my pillows?”

“If they’re anything like your guest room pillow, no.” Rob flashed Mike a smile just before he flipped off the lights and the downstairs plunged into darkness. He heard Mike fumbling for the light switch that turned on the light at the top of the stairs, and then there was a faint warm glow over both their faces. Mike’s eyes looked as though they had candles hidden in them, and Rob felt his breath catch. “Go on,” he whispered, suddenly quiet in the darkness, and Mike only nodded before he turned and went up in front of him. 

They parted ways at the top of the stairs, Mike disappearing into his room and Rob into his, both of them taking time to go through their nightly routines in the bathroom. Rob looked up into the mirror as he rinsed his mouth and patted his face dry. The two of them had spent the previous night together in the same bed. This night didn’t have to be any different. He chanted it to himself a few times, picking up his pillow and making he way back to Mike’s bedroom. _We’re watching a movie. That’s all. We have a band meeting tomorrow, and we’re watching a movie tonight. That’s all, Rob._

Mike wasn’t out of the bathroom when Rob went in the bedroom and he hesitated, realizing he had no idea which side of the bed Mike slept on. Then his eyes caught the pillows at the top of the bed. The pillowcases were pale pink, and for some reason, Rob hadn’t expected there to be any trace of a woman’s touch in the room. The rest of the bedding was white and gray, and without those sheets, Rob might not have thought of Anna again for the rest of the night. 

“You’re on the right,” Mike said, coming out of the bathroom and breaking Rob’s concentrated stare at the bed. “Looking at it,” he clarified when Rob started toward the wrong side of the bed.

“I thought you meant you wanted me on your right.” Rob shook his head and came back around to the other side. “Nice sheets,” he mentioned casually, plopping his pillow down on top of the pink one.

“I know they’re pink, but they’re also twelve hundred thread count,” Mike defended, pulling back his side. “It’s like sleeping on a cloud. You’ll see.” He’d abandoned his joggers and hoodie in favor of boxers and an oversized t-shirt, and Rob tried not to let his eyes linger on Mike’s skinny, uncovered legs as he climbed into bed. 

Rob kicked off his slippers and followed, trying to get comfortable between the pink sheets despite the pajama pants and t-shirt he was wearing. There was no need to tempt either of them by sleeping in his underwear the way he did when he was alone. He was stuffing the pillows up under his head, propping them so he could see, while Mike clicked around on the remote. Rob was all settled and ready when Mike pushed his pillow over closer and lay down. He was so close their arms were touching, and Rob knew if he turned his head, Mike’s face would be right there.

He tried not to react, keeping his concentration on the tv screen in front of them even though he wanted to touch Mike. On his face, his arm, his leg, it didn’t matter. But Rob dutifully kept his eyes on the movie. Even when he felt Mike’s fingers start to pet over his arm, and when they laughed so hard and Mike scooted even closer. It was hard to focus, with the feel and smell of Mike so close. Rob was thankful he knew the movie by heart, because his thoughts were on Mike, and his restraint was taking all of his brainpower. 

Later, when Mike was snuggled in tight against him, asleep, Rob thought about how he’d planned to turn the lamp off and go to sleep when the movie was over. He’d intended for them to sleep next to each other for the second night in a row. He’d meant to kiss Mike’s cheek softly and turn away, but it hadn’t turned out that way.

When the movie was over, Mike pressed one button on the remote and the screen went black. He leaned over and put the remote on the nightstand, and then turned back to Rob, laying over on his side. “You sleepy? Wanna turn out the light?”

Rob turned his head to say something right as Mike’s hand connected with his bicep, and their eyes met. “Yeah,” he whispered, but Mike didn’t let his arm go. They looked at each other for a minute, until Rob looked down at Mike’s hand. “You’ll have to let me go.”

But Mike didn’t let go. He lifted up on his elbow slightly, enough to inch closer to Rob, looking down at him while his grip tightened ever so slightly. It was a breathless second before Rob’s _fuck it_ mechanism kicked in, and he reached for Mike, his free hand going to the back of his neck to bring his lips down, close enough for Rob to take them.

He felt Mike sink into the kiss, and he heard the soft whimper as his lips parted to let Rob inside. Unlike the light, sweet kisses they’d shared the past few days, unlike the alcohol fueled kisses on the bus, this moment was sensual. He could feel the difference. He could feel the heat from Mike’s body against him. He felt the gentle pressure of Mike’s lips and the tentative swipes of his tongue. He felt the way Mike’s hand slid up his arm, and over to his chest. Rob felt it happening, and the way Mike was kissing him didn’t feel desperate. It was slow and tender, and Rob let it happen, let his fingers slide up into Mike’s hair, keeping him close.

It was enough for Mike to become braver, to lace his leg through Rob’s to get closer, and there was no hesitation behind giving Mike what he wanted. Both of Rob’s hands went down to Mike’s small ass as he shifted on top of him. Rob was already feeling the arousal, could feel his cock growing harder, and then Mike’s body pressed down into his hips. There was no stifling the groan from his throat, no stopping the way his hands pulled Mike even tighter against him. It was the very first time he’d held Mike Shinoda this way, and Rob’s head was swimming in desire so deep he was drowning. 

“Touch me,” Mike whispered when their lips parted, and Rob stared up into his face through half-closed eyes. He slid one hand between them and down the front of Mike’s boxers, and watched the way Mike’s eyes closed and his mouth dropped open. Rob felt his own body react, his stomach twisting tighter and his dick pulsing with need. 

“Look at you,” he whispered, taking in the flush of Mike’s skin and the pleasure on his face, his dark eyelashes resting on his cheeks and his bottom lip held captive by his teeth while he rocked in Rob’s grip. It was wet, the precum sticking to Rob’s hand as he moved it up and down, giving every inch of Mike’s length friction to enjoy. It was almost surreal, feeling the weight and length and girth of Mike’s cock in his hand. Rob was realizing a fantasy he’d held for years, giving Mike a hand job for the first time. 

Mike was braced over him when he came, his hips moving in time with Rob’s hand, and the small, soft “oh” that came with the trembling, shuddering release seared itself into Rob’s memory to be replayed whenever he wanted. His hand was covered in Mike’s warm cum, a complete turn on that had him wishing he could turn Mike over and sink inside of him.

But Mike had other plans, and when he opened his eyes after the first orgasm with Rob, he smiled shyly before offering to get a towel to clean him off. Mike dropped a kiss on Rob’s lips and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Rob hard and aching on the bed, his heart thundering and his brain wondering how Mike tasted on his hand. That hand was cleaned before he got the nerve to try it, and then Mike was between his legs, coaxing the pajama pants and underwear away and enthusiastically taking his cock between his lips before Rob could say no.

It was a lost thought, saying no. The truth was, he didn’t want to say no. He didn’t want to stop, to think about anything other than the feel of Mike’s mouth, the heat and the pressure and his tongue that licked up his shaft and then slid over his skin, lapped at his slit and sucked at his head, all while Rob dug his fingers into the top of Mike’s hair. He felt Mike’s warm hands on his thighs and then up over his stomach, the sensual tickle of the facial hair on his body. It was a little bit like being lost in a dream, and Rob didn’t bother to try to hold back, though he did manage to gasp Mike’s name as a warning before he spilled into his lover’s mouth, the waves of his orgasm not lasting as long as he desperately wished that they would. 

Rob didn’t open his eyes when Mike pulled away and swallowed, one hand falling to the bed and the other drifting down Mike’s cheek as he crawled up Rob’s half naked body and lowered his head to meet Rob’s kisses again. 

He felt Mike’s clean boxers against his sensitive penis, tasted the cum on his tongue and felt the swollen warmth of his lips. Mike stayed to let Rob come down before he slid carefully to the side, and Rob got up for his turn in the bathroom. A quick look in the mirror showed flushed cheeks and wide, bright eyes behind his glasses that had been forgotten in the unexpected bliss of the intimacy they had just experienced. He washed his hands and his face before he stepped back into his underwear, and decided there was no point to putting his pajama pants back on. There was no more point in barriers.

When he came back to bed, Mike was balled up on his side, and Rob turned off the lamp and climbed in beside him. Now he could feel the softness of the sheets against his skin, and he appreciated them as he got comfortable, pressing his face close to Mike’s and kissing his cheek softly before he took a chance with his heart and whispered, “I am so in love with you.” 

****

TBC


	14. Running From My Shadow

Rob was awake first. He could tell from the sound of Mike’s breathing, the steady in and out of air between his parted lips. The sun was dim through the windows - Rob knew the master suite faced away from the sun in the mornings - and he held still, listening. He’d slept hard the night before, and that was all because of Mike. It was still unbelievable, hours after Rob experienced Mike’s mouth around him and they shared orgasms for the first time. He really thought it had been a dream, but the soft sheets on his bare legs told him otherwise. He was sleeping in the bed next to Mike, and his pajama pants were somewhere else. It had happened, and he wasn’t sure how to feel. No matter what happened with the band, they couldn’t go back to the way they were before. 

There was a part of him that wanted to slide over close to Mike, wrap his arm around him and kiss his neck, wake him up slowly. But he couldn’t do it. All he could think about was the band meeting later, wondering what Mike would say, and how he would present their relationship. Eight hours ago it wouldn’t have bothered Rob if Mike only told the guys that they were thinking about pursuing a relationship with each other. What happened between them last night changed things, at least in Rob’s mind. Now it felt important to hear Mike say that he was in love. _Or falling in love. Or anything other than merely thinking about us maybe being together._ In Rob’s mind, they were already together.

_And that’s why I wanted to wait. I can’t believe we did that last night._ Cautiously Rob opened his eyes, but instead of looking at Mike, he stared at the ceiling above him. It looked like every other ceiling he’d seen in his lifetime, white and nondescript. He spent a few minutes looking at patterns in the texturing before he carefully slid out of bed and scooped up his pajama pants, putting them on before he stuffed his feet into his slippers. 

It was only then, fully clothed, that Rob looked back at Mike. Mike was still curled up in almost the same position he’d fallen asleep in the night before. Rob could barely see the rise and fall of the blanket over Mike’s body as he breathed, but he could see the shock of dark hair against the pale pink sheets. It took him immediately back to the vision of Mike between his legs, the top of his head and his black hair soft under Rob’s fingers. 

It was impossible to look at Mike and not feel desire, even after all these years. Though Rob had learned to control that desire from years of being on the sidelines, it was getting harder with every moment they spent together. There were so many things he wanted to have with Mike, so many things that were going to be possible now that Mike was mentally healthier, and almost legally divorced. 

_Almost… but not quite. He told Anna. But there’s still the guys. And the kids. The guys are going to think it’s too soon, but they’re going to be afraid to say anything that will upset Mike. So how will I know what they really think? And we haven’t talked about telling the kids. He seems to think it won’t be a big deal, and Anna won’t have a problem with them staying over. But what if she does?_

Rob’s thoughts were starting to spiral. Despite Mike’s actions _showing_ he was ready for their relationship to blossom, Rob could feel the uncertainty creeping in - even with how the previous night had gone between the two of them. 

_Or what if it all goes well with the guys today? What happens next? I practically live here. Will he want to move in together? Am I ready to give up my house? I know Mike will want to stay here. The studio. The kid’s rooms. Those two things alone are more important than anything my house has to offer. We should have talked about these things. All of these things. I shouldn’t have touched him last night! Why did I let him get under my skin like that?_

He knew exactly why he’d had no misgivings about their intimacy while it was happening, and he cursed himself for his lack of restraint. Mike was so gorgeous, so willing, and Rob had let the combination get the best of him. Now in the light of morning, he needed some space to think. He’d already told Mike he wanted more than sex, and how could he go back now? Turning down any advance from Mike would hurt him, and Rob knew he’d be powerless to do anything that would wound Mike. The only solution was to get away from temptation, to get a bit of a breather, and going to his house was as good an excuse as he could think of at the moment.

In his heart Rob knew that he shouldn’t leave Mike to wake up alone. Nothing seemed more cruel to either of them than to act as though last night hadn’t been important, a catalyst of sorts. With a sigh he walked around the side of the bed and sat down next to Mike, reaching over to rub his back lightly over the blanket. “Mike?” he whispered, watching the other man’s face.

It took a few more whispers, and a gentle shake, before Mike’s expression changed from peaceful sleep to sudden awareness. “What?” he mumbled, and a frown graced his full lips immediately. 

“I’m up. I didn’t want you to wake up and wonder where I was,” Rob said, his gentle rubbing coming to a halt. “I’m going to head over to my house for a while. Until the meeting.”

“Huh?” Mike’s eyes opened quickly, suddenly intense as they searched Rob’s face. “Why? I thought we’d go to the meeting together.” His hand came out from under the blanket to clutch at Rob’s thigh. The look of thinly veiled fear on his face made Rob feel guilty. 

“I know. I just… I’ve got some things to do around the house, and I thought I could knock it out while you’re sleeping.” Rob leaned over and kissed Mike’s forehead gently, chastely. “We’ve only been home two days. I know you’re tired, and a lot of emotional things have happened.” He had to stop to clear his throat quickly as last night popped into his head again. “The meeting will be the same, probably a lot of emotions on all sides. Just get some rest, and I’ll meet you at Brad’s.” He leaned back and waited.

Mike seemed to take a long time to answer, though it was probably only seconds. “Well, okay,” he agreed reluctantly, his eyes searching over Rob’s face for clues. He pulled his hand away slowly, then pulled the blanket up under his chin like a child.

Rob’s hand slid from Mike’s back to his arm, then he reached to touch Mike’s face gently. “I’ll see you there. I promise. Go back to sleep.” Their eyes held until Mike gave in and closed his eyes, and Rob sighed before he stood up. He felt like he was running away, but he needed to get away for a little while. He wasn’t sure if he was running from Mike, or running from his own convoluted thoughts, but it didn’t matter.

Rob closed Mike’s bedroom door behind him and stepped across the hall to what he thought of as his room, quickly finding jeans and a hoodie to change into for the drive back to his house. As quietly as he could he got dressed and was out the door before Mike could come after him. It felt silly, as many years as he’d pined for Mike, to be running away from him now, but he wasn’t going to chance any more intimacy before they revealed themselves to the band. Rob knew that if he stayed in Mike Shinoda’s presence there would be little to stop him from taking things all the way. 

So he drove to his house and went inside as if he’d lived there any time recently. At least there was coffee, and he made a cup while he pondered the day, standing in his living room and looking out the large floor to ceiling glass panels between him and the pool outside. He paid a lot of money for the pool’s upkeep, and the upkeep of his garden. It seemed almost wasteful in hindsight, with nobody living there, but he knew it was a necessary expense. Otherwise, the pool would be green and the grass and bushes overgrown, and then it would cost a small fortune to bring it back to something acceptable. Today the water in his pool looked clean, clear blue, calm and inviting. He knew it was probably too cool for his liking. 

It was a sudden temptation to grab his surfing gear and go down to the beach, and Rob went back and forth with himself for a few minutes. The temperature of the ocean made little difference when he was in his wet suit, and there was plenty of time to make a trip, get out on the water, and think. He knew it would help him clear his mind, and though there was the danger of losing track of time, the call of the water was compelling. With his mind made up, he didn’t waste any more time, carefully rinsing his coffee mug and leaving it in the dish drainer, then wiping out the coffee maker. Not knowing when he would return made him leave everything as though he wasn’t coming back again for months. 

His wetsuit was in the cabana out by the pool, along with all of his gear. There was no need to linger in the house, with the stale smell of the air reminding him just how long it had been since he’d spent any length of time there. It was hard to imagine that it might not even be his anymore… that what he wanted with Mike was a long term commitment, and that could mean moving out of one house and into another. 

Those thoughts were overwhelming, and the more he dwelled on it, along with all the questions he’d conjured up earlier in Mike’s bedroom, the more anxious he felt. He tried to busy himself with getting his things ready to go, but his mind wouldn’t calm down. Fortunately Rob was practiced in getting the surfboard up on top of the Range Rover’s special rack, and he did it with ease despite having other things on his mind. In a half hour he was ready to head out, his windows down on the way out to Hermosa Beach.

There was a quick stop for more coffee close to his house, and breakfast which he ate on the drive. At a shop down by the water where he typically locked up his cell phone, his wallet, and his keys, Rob parked the Range Rover and got out, taking time to stretch a little. He checked the time, and looked at the sky before assessing the waves. He could already feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, that feeling different from the way anxiety had been making him feel all morning. It had been months since he’d been out on the water, and he couldn’t wait. 

The last thing he did before he locked his things away was send Mike a text. _The waves were too good to pass up. I’m down at Hermosa but plan to be at the meeting._ After a moment’s hesitation he hit send, feeling bad that only two hours ago he’d told Mike he’d be doing chores at home. _Oh well. Plans change._ He didn’t wait for a reply.

Outside the air was crisp for November, and the white peaks of the waves were enticing. It was a short walk down to the coastline, the sun brilliant overhead and no clouds in the sky. Rob waded out into the water, surfboard under his arm, until he was deep enough to float it by his side. It was instantly calming to be in the ocean again, and it occurred to him as he swam out against the waves that he needed to make time alone a priority. 

The sudden thought was shattering. Rob had been so focused on Mike the past several months that the _me_ time he had always carefully cultivated somehow slowly slipped down his priority list without him noticing. Blaming Mike for that change wouldn’t be fair. Mike had never asked Rob to give up his whole life to be with him, which was another startling realization. Mike had only asked him not to leave again, and Rob started to wonder if maybe his presence was smothering. After all, he hadn’t been asked to move in to the guest room, it had simply happened.

_But he doesn’t act smothered. He’s been grateful I was there. He said he needed me. Are need and love the same thing? Did the need for me to be there turn into love at some point?_ Those were hard questions, and Rob wasn’t sure he knew the answers.

Thankfully the familiar smell and salt of the ocean was its own source of comfort and distraction. Without making a conscious decision, Rob began to focus more on the water and less on Mike and his run away thoughts. Surfing was an escape, a way to run from the questions and problems in his mind, just as it had been in Portugal. Getting up on the board was natural even though it had been months, and Rob let the peace flow through him while he rode the waves. His wet hair didn’t bother him, the world being slightly out of focus didn’t bother him. The slight burn in his thighs from time off the water didn’t bother him, only resolved him to get out on the ocean more. 

He stopped worrying about the time and stayed out on the waves until his body was exhausted. All of the questions and anxieties of the morning were still there, but they felt far less incapacitating than they had earlier in the day. Everything felt more manageable now. Until he made his way into the shop, he wouldn’t know what time it was, and he was in no hurry to find out. Even if he was late to the meeting, he knew Mike wouldn’t bring anything up about their relationship. At least he knew Mike well enough to answer that one question, and after he got the surf board back on top of the Range Rover, he started to wipe the sand off his wet suit. It was easier now that he’d dried a little, and the wet suit would be completely dry before he got back to the car to go home and shower. 

_Okay, Mike. Whatever you say, this is the make or break moment for how we move forward. How the guys react, whether you’re all in… I want you to be all in,_ Rob realized suddenly, pushing his wet hair back on his way into the shop. _I want you to want this the way you say you do. I’m ready, either way. But I want you to be all in._

It was a half hour back to the house, and Rob kept glancing at the time on the dash. He had just enough time to shower and make it Brad’s, and he stayed focused on the task at hand. He was in a better place mentally than he’d been in earlier, and he wanted to stay that way.

****

Everyone was at Brad’s by the time Rob walked in an hour later that afternoon. Mike’s troubled eyes followed him as he went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. It had been easy to take his cup into the living room and sit next to Mike on the couch, and Rob hadn’t missed the sigh of relief when he boldly stretched his arm over the back of the couch and around Mike’s shoulders.

Just the thought now caused Rob to smile as he buried his face in Mike’s hair. He couldn’t have asked for things to go smoother in the band meeting. Mike had been forthcoming about the European tour, completely different from how he’d presented the initial idea for the first tour. This afternoon he’d been confident, and the band was much more open to the idea the second time around. It had given him the confidence to go ahead and tell the guys that he and Rob had gotten closer. That they were going to be together, in a relationship that went past friendship. That he had fallen for Rob. 

Rob remembered the way Brad’s eyes had flashed to him first, before he’d even acknowledged Mike’s revelation. Brad knew how Rob felt, that his feelings were deep and they weren’t recent. It had made Rob’s palms a little sweaty as Brad stared him down while Joe and Dave asked some questions. Together he and Mike had worked through each of their concerns, and even Brad seemed to visibly relax by the time the meeting was over. _We told them it wasn’t going to be public yet, not until Mike’s divorce is final. We told them it wouldn’t affect the band, if and when we start working again. Mike told them he’d fallen in love._

Rob kissed the top of Mike’s head and felt Mike’s arms tighten around his waist. They were back home now, in the safety of Mike’s garage. Mike hadn’t wasted any time embracing him when they both got out of their cars, and Rob was quick to return the hug. “Mike,” he said, holding him close, “I’m so glad you were so open in the meeting.”

That was all it took for Mike to tilt his head to look at Rob. “I knew why you left this morning,” he said quietly, stepping back and reaching for both of Rob’s hands. “I know I don’t always show it, but I know a little about you after all these years, Bourdie. I knew you were running from last night.”

Rob felt a hot blush creep up his cheeks. “Last night was… it was so good.” He looked at Mike for a moment, into his deep eyes, and offered a shy smile. “I never thought I’d be there, with you.”

Mike squeezed Rob’s hands and returned the smile. “It was better than good. It felt amazing.” He let go of one hand and pulled Rob along by the other as he made his way to the house. “I know it was a lot, and I don’t want you to think everything between us is just physical. I wanted the guys to know it, too.”

Rob let himself be led into the house, hanging on every word Mike spoke. His heart was racing the way it always did at the thought of being intimate with Mike. 

“I know that’s why you left this morning. You were sorting things out, the way you always do. And it feels fast and slow, all at the same time.” Mike left his keys and phone on the bar and turned to Rob. “It feels that way for me, too. One minute all I can think about is being close to you, and the next minute I think it’s too soon.” He stopped, and Rob recognized the shadow that passed over Mike’s eyes right then. 

“We can be whatever you’re comfortable with, Mike,” Rob whispered. “I told myself when I was surfing today, it didn’t matter how many questions I could think of, or how crazy my mind was being. All I needed to calm those fears, to know that _you_ want this to be a real relationship, was for you to tell the guys. Telling them what we have isn’t just sex, or filling the void that Chester left.” Rob heard Mike’s breath, and he stepped closer, putting his arms around Mike again and pulling him into his chest. “All I needed was to hear you say you were falling in love, Mike. Everything else, we’ll talk about that stuff. We’ll figure out the kids and the houses and tours and the band.”

He felt Mike’s breath through his shirt, heard his muffled laugh. “Kids and houses. You really were all over the place this morning. I’m sorry. I was upset when you left but I understood. And you promised me you’d come back, that you wouldn’t leave again. I believed you.”

Rob nodded as Mike’s hands tucked up under his shirt and he shivered. “I’m sorry, too. I was scared still. Last night _was_ amazing, and I just woke up this morning wondering when _you_ were going to wake up and decide this wasn’t what you wanted.” He closed his eyes and savored the way Mike’s fingers trailed over his hidden skin.

“I do want this. You. It’s more than filling a hole in my heart, like I told the guys earlier. You didn’t fill that huge, gaping hole. I thought losing him was going to kill me,” Mike confessed softly. “You stitched up that hole and stopped the bleeding. Then you gave me a reason not to rip open the stitches and bleed out.”

The sentiment went straight to Rob’s heart. “I loved you too much to let you do that. He loved you, too,” he added softly, “and I know that you can love us both.” He could hear the soft ticking of the clock in the breakfast nook as they stood together, holding each other. Rob knew there were other questions to settle, but there would be time later. Right now, the biggest question he’d had was settled. There was nothing to run from anymore. He and Mike were going to be together, and Rob cautiously believed that Mike was truly in their relationship for the right reasons.

“You ready?” he asked, lowering his lips to Mike’s right there in the kitchen. He felt the way Mike melted against him as they kissed, and it was enough of an invitation. Everything else went to the background when the kiss broke long enough for Mike to say yes, and Rob couldn’t stop himself even if he’d wanted to. “Come on, then… lets go to bed.” 

****  
TBC


	15. World's on Fire

Rob sat on the bed in the guest room, a condom in his hand. He flipped it back and forth a few times, his stomach anxious. In no other relationship, whether it was with a man or a woman, had he been so nervous to be intimate. It seemed silly, in light of what had happened the night before, but that had been all Mike. It was Mike who had kissed him, Mike who gave the orders, Mike who didn’t stop to ask permission. 

With his eyes closed he remembered the soft little _oh_ when Mike came in his hand, the way Mike had crawled up his body to kiss him in the aftermath of his own orgasm, the way he’d curled up behind Mike the night before and whispered the love he felt for the other man. So much of him wanted to take down the last barrier between them. The last physical barrier. He’d been wanting Mike for so long, but now that the time had come, he was stalling. And he knew it.

He knew Mike was probably already waiting for him in the other room, fresh from the shower. His own hair was only towel dried, damp from the shower he’d taken at a slower pace than usual. Then, for whatever reason, he’d put on clothes - boxers, pajama pants and a t-shirt - though their intentions in coming upstairs and parting ways to go shower were clear. 

He was the one who’d hesitated when they made it upstairs, hand in hand. He wasn’t sure which bedroom they were going to, and didn’t want to assume he was invited back into Mike’s. He was ready to take Mike into his, a vision in his mind of Mike’s black hair against the wine red blanket, but Mike took the lead, suggesting showers and for Rob to join him in his bed when he was ready.

 _Am I ready? I’m ready. He’s ready. That’s the most important part, that he’s ready._ Rob had already asked his permissions downstairs, and he knew exactly where Mike stood on the issue of intimacy after last night. He opened his eyes and looked at the condom again, and even though he wanted to leave it behind, he took it with him anyway. It was one of the things they hadn’t talked about yet, and he didn’t want to have to stop to come back and get it if that was what they decided. 

He left his slippers when he crossed the hallway to Mike’s bedroom. The bedside lamp was on, and Mike was sitting on the edge of the bed in pajamas, his hands curled around the edge of the mattress as he stared down at his feet. Rob took a moment to try to calm his runaway pulse and he sucked in a breath that wasn’t as quiet as he tried to make it. 

Mike looked up and smiled, and the look on his face was enough to move Rob’s feet across the floor until he was standing in front of him. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” Mike reached for Rob’s hands, the condom transferring ownership as soon as they touched. “Good idea,” he said softly, only giving it a cursory glance before he tossed it next to his pillow and turned back to Rob.

Standing, he reached up to touch the side of Rob's glasses, a short smile passing over his lips. "Let me put these away this time. I know you can still see without them." With both hands he gently lifted the glasses from Rob's ears and took them off, then twisted to the side to lay them on the nightstand. 

"You're only a little fuzzy now," Rob commented, blinking as Mike came back to slide both arms around his neck. The moment didn’t seem real. The outline of Mike’s face wasn’t as sharp as it had been, and the lack of focus made his dark eyes seem deeper, like a fantasy. It was mesmerizing, and Rob couldn’t look away. “You're like a dream."

"You're like waking up from a dream," Mike whispered, pulling Rob down to connect their lips. 

Rob felt Mike's long fingers in the back of his hair and the way he leaned in closer, and his hand spread open on the small of Mike's back. The bedroom was quiet, and Rob could hear his heart beating, and Mike's soft whimpers, and the sound of their lips as they met softly. It wasn't lost on him, the difference in the way they were coming at this moment. For him, it was the culmination of years of longing, of waiting and watching, of silently pining for his friend. A dream he’d never expected to be reality. But for Mike, it was an awakening of something new, a new chapter in a different story altogether. A moment he’d woken up to seize. 

Rob slowly pulled back, tracing his lips down Mike's beard covered jawline, and down his neck. "Mike?" he hummed against the warm skin he couldn’t stop kissing. 

"Yeah?" Mike's eyes were closed, his head leaned back to let Rob's lips explore. One hand went down Rob's neck and the other further up into his hair.

Rob pulled back, his eyes scanning all over Mike's face, looking for a sign that where they were headed was wrong. They'd crossed a line the night before, and crossing the last one now was a moment that Rob knew would symbolize many things. “I want you so much.” He exhaled slowly, keeping his control for a few more seconds. Downstairs earlier they had talked about Chester, but now he needed to make sure this was only about them.

“I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I’ve been in love with you since we met. Not the way I am now. And I know that you’ve been in love and been loved by others in that time, too.” He watched Mike grow very still, his eyes opening slowly to lock into Rob’s. “But you’ve always been more than my friend, and I want us to make a life together. I feel like we’ve already started. It started months ago when I never went home, when you asked me to come on tour with you. I want you to know, I’ll go anywhere with you.” He felt Mike’s fingers as they loosened in his hair, but Rob didn’t back away. 

“I want you with me,” Mike whispered when Rob stopped speaking. He took a moment to breathe before he went on, “I love you, somewhere in all of this I fell in love or this would never have happened. I won’t lie to you either. A year ago I couldn’t have imagined ever being in love again, and here we are. Nobody but you could have brought me out of the hell I was in… nobody knew what was in my head but you.” Mike brought his hand around to gently brush the long hair away from Rob’s face. “All I need is you.” 

That declaration was enough for Rob. He could see the truth in the dark depths of Mike’s eyes. This was really going to happen, and he leaned down to kiss Mike’s forehead gently. “I told you that you didn’t want our first time in the back of the bus, trying to stay quiet. What I didn’t tell you that night is I didn’t want to be rushed, either. I want to take my time and touch every… part… of… your… body.” 

The anxiety was starting to ease and he heard Mike catch his breath as he whispered each word slowly, dropping kisses down Mike's neck, both hands working the buttons of the pajama shirt he was wearing until they were all free. Leaning back, he caught Mike's eyes and smiled. "Turn around," he whispered, a shiver of anticipation running down his spine when Mike slowly followed directions. 

It was an incredibly familiar view, and Rob's eyes raked over Mike's shape. With his fingertips he touched Mike's neck, the clean line of his haircut reminding him of the days when Mike's hair was longer and curling at his ears, covering the part of his neck that Rob was now touching. He took the collar of the shirt in his hands and carefully worked it over Mike's shoulders, stepping close while he slid it down his arms. Rob leaned close and skated his lips down the back of Mike's neck lightly, letting the shirt drop to the floor.

Mike was perfectly still, and Rob breathed in the moment. He ran his hands down the back of Mike's arms, then over his back, admiring his slim waist and his small ass as his eyes followed his hands. He'd watched Mike for years on stage. He knew every line of Mike's body from this angle, and his heart was pounding at the idea he'd soon know every line of Mike's body from every angle.

His slid his hands around Mike's waistband of his pants, his hands tucking under it slowly while he kissed the back of Mike's ear. Without a word Mike shifted, letting the pants slip down a little until Rob dropped down to help him. Mike stepped out of his pants and Rob shoved them to the side, stopping to kiss up the back of Mike’s thighs. Mike had never been exceptionally hairy, and halfway up the back of his legs the dark hair thinned to almost nothing, and Rob brushed his lips over the smooth skin below the curve of Mike’s ass. He heard Mike gasp a half giggle and smiled before he stood up, taking his pants off in the process. 

Mike turned around to watch, standing in front of him in only navy blue underwear, and Rob couldn’t wait to get him on the bed. He was about to suggest it when Mike grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it upward, and in seconds Rob was standing in just his boxers. The tips of his ears burned a little as Mike took the time to drink in the sight of Rob almost naked. His hands went out to trace Rob’s broad shoulders, and down his arms to grab onto his biceps when Rob’s hands when to his waist.

“Your arms are twice the size of mine,” Mike murmured in amusement. “Drummer arms.” He looked down Rob’s chest at his cut stomach, and it was all Rob could do not to use those arms and muscles to throw Mike up on the bed.

But that wasn’t for tonight. That was for later, when they’d been together this way long enough for that kind of trust to be established. Rob wasn’t going to be anything but careful this first time. He was going to make sure Mike knew in every kiss, every touch, every movement of his body, that Rob loved him. That all of this was more than just years of lust finding an outlet. That this was the start of something different. 

He took Mike by the hips, the two of them pulling each other closer. Mike’s hands didn’t move from Rob’s arms as their lips met, a little more urgently than before. As much as Rob wanted to take his time, to make this first time last, he wasn’t sure that he could. There were too many years between them, and a sense of familiarity though they had never engaged in this particular act before. 

Mike didn’t waste any time running his hands all over Rob’s skin, his long fingers exploring each curve and dip in the muscles he was touching. Every bit of skin felt feverish in the wake of his touch, his lips and his tongue chasing Rob’s without hesitation. With his hands on Mike’s hips, Rob guided him the few steps backwards to the bed, their kiss breaking when Mike sat down and shifted his body onto the mattress. Rob followed, and they lay together side by side as Mike reached out to Rob’s hair again. The long strands were in his face, and Mike pushed them back gently with a smile before he ran his hand over Rob’s beard.

“I remember when you didn’t wear glasses,” Mike murmured, looking at Rob as though he were trying to see the twenty year old version of his lover. “And when you only had a goatee.” 

“I remember when you dyed your hair red,” Rob teased, pulling Mike closer to him. “You looked ridiculous.”

“No more ridiculous than your blonde phase,” Mike teased back before the giggles faded. His hands were back in Rob’s hair again, and he looked into Rob’s eyes. “It’s a lifetime ago,” he whispered seriously, his fingers flexing through the silky strands. “We’re not the same people we were.”

“No, we’re not.” Rob felt Mike’s leg lace through his, and their lips came back together as their bodies met. There were gentle, slow kisses while Mike pressed against him and they let their hands roam. One of Rob’s big hands could cover one of Mike’s hips almost completely, holding him close while arousal picked up speed on both sides. The smell of Mike was everywhere as they kissed, and Rob could feel the ache in his cock, the desire for more, despite the clothing still between them. 

Mike pressed in closer, almost like he was trying to turn Rob onto his back. But Mike felt small next to him, and it was easy to gain a little control over the way they were kissing and touching each other. Rob felt the shift and met it, twisting enough to turn Mike onto his back instead, his body falling right in line between Mike’s parted thighs. He pulled back to see Mike’s eyes, black with lust, before he pressed his hips down. That was all it took to close Mike’s eyes, to get a shuddering sigh from the man underneath him. Rob could feel Mike through his boxers, could tell that he was hard and knew that he was probably wet, too, and he pressed down again. He felt the sparks in his stomach as he moved, creating a good friction while he had both hands up under the pillow, kissing up Mike’s neck to dip his tongue in his ear. The way Mike gasped went straight to his cock, and Rob didn’t stop, teasing his tongue and hot breaths on Mike’s earlobe while they rocked together. He felt Mike’s hands go down, reaching as far as they could to bring Rob harder against him, in total opposition to his words.

“You’re going to get me off like this,” Mike whimpered, twisting his head to the side as Rob rocked against him.

“Well, we don’t want that… not yet,” Rob said, lifting his upper body and balancing on his forearms, his hips coming to a stop. “Tell me what you like,” he whispered, licking a line up Mike’s neck until he twisted and looked up at Rob. They’d come to a point in foreplay that Rob wasn’t sure how to continue. “Do you want my fingers first? I know it’s been a while.” 

Mike nodded, the color in his cheeks fading a bit as the building orgasm started to fade. “Yeah, that would be good. There’s lube in the drawer,” he added, pointing to the nightstand.

For a split second Rob hesitated. Then he nodded, leaning over to pull from the drawer a new bottle, safety seal still in tact. He didn’t have to say what he was thinking. Mike had read his mind before they had even gotten this far, and he was grateful.

He sat back on his knees, the front of his boxers tented out with the evidence of just how badly he wanted Mike. Neither of them said a word, and the sound of the cellophane seemed loud in the silent bedroom. The wrapper went over the side of the bed and their eyes met after the pop of the lid seemed abnormally loud. 

“I’m ready,” Mike whispered, lifting his hips for Rob to pull his underwear down. 

Despite the hand job he’d given Mike the night before, and the countless times he’d glimpsed Mike naked when they changed backstage, seeing him naked on the bed was a whole new feeling. Rob lifted the waistband over Mike’s erection, careful not to tug harshly as he got the underwear down and off and his eyes on Mike’s figure. His upper thighs were pale and almost hairless like the back, but his cock was springing forward from dark, neatly trimmed pubic hair that looked soft. With his free hand Rob moved one of Mike’s knees to the side and hovered between Mike’s legs, drinking up the sight of him. It was the glisten of precum on Mike’s tip that drew Rob in, that had Rob bending over to take him in hand and lower his mouth to Mike’s dick. 

Mike whimpered again, one hand reaching out to tangle in the top of Rob’s hair. Rob heard his name fall from Mike’s lips and closed his eyes, tasting his lover for the first time. In a series of licks and sucks, Rob mapped out his new territory, cataloguing the response to each movement he tried. He wasn’t close to finished when Mike pulled at his hair, warning breathlessly to stop, and Rob did, carefully pulling away and sliding to the side, crawling up Mike’s body to connect their lips again.

It was urgent now, and when Rob pulled away to spread lube on his fingers, Mike’s skin was splotchy and pink, the arousal obvious. His eyes were closed when Rob slid one finger inside him, his lips parted as he breathed. Rob never took his eyes off Mike’s face as he kept himself under control, forced himself not to go too fast even when Mike’s breaths became ragged again and his expression wanton. After two fingers, Mike was squirming, and Rob couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Mike,” he husked, the rasp of desire in his voice surprising him, even more than Mike nodding before Rob could ask if he was ready. It was hard to pull his fingers away, but the look in Mike’s eyes told Rob it was time. He coaxed Mike over onto his stomach with a hand on his lower back, watching Mike cradle the pillow in his arms while he shed his boxers and tore open the condom packet. 

Rob’s hands were shaking as he rolled it down and then coated himself liberally in lube. Mike was on his stomach, his legs spread wide and one knee bent higher than the other, and the sight of this particular man sprawled on pale pink sheets in front of him was almost too much. For the first time Rob didn’t know how long he would make it. He leaned over to kiss across Mike’s shoulders, his body dwarfing Mike’s as he lined his cock up. “Stop me if I hurt you,” he whispered in Mike’s ear before he reached down to hike Mike’s leg out to the side, making his target easier to reach.

He heard Mike’s gasp when the head of his cock finally pressed inside. It wasn’t easy, despite the fingering. Mike was tight, and Rob was not an average sized man. He knew that, and he knew he had to be careful. The squeeze around his cock head was almost painful it was so tight. He felt Mike’s knee reach higher in an attempt to open himself up more, and Rob kissed the back of his neck. “Okay? Relax.” 

“I know.” 

Mike’s voice was strained, and Rob’s fingers tightened on his thigh involuntarily. “We can stop,” he whispered, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“No, keep going.” 

Mike shifted his hips and Rob felt his shaft inch forward. It was already overwhelming. Between kisses he whispered Mike’s name like it was a prayer, his eyes squeezed shut while they worked together, until his cock was nestled all the way inside. Every nerve in Rob’s body was on fire and he sucked in the feeling of Mike’s body squeezing him so tightly. It felt like an eternity before Mike’s voice came through the fog of that bliss, begging him to move.

He let go of Mike’s leg to give an experimental thrust, which brought a low moan from Mike’s throat. Even with the generous amount of lube, motion was difficult until it seemed that Mike’s body gave in and relaxed. Rob’s arms twisted through Mike’s to find his hands, lacing their fingers together as he pulled Mike in with each thrust. It was intoxicating to hear Mike’s voice, his reaction as Rob started to move smoothly within him. As it became easier everything was narrowed down to Mike and Rob, and the way their bodies were learning each other. Every whisper, every moan, every shake and tremor and stroke between them was new, etching itself into Rob’s memory to make next time better, and the time after that, and the time after that. 

His face was pressed next to Mike’s when he came, his cock as deep inside of Mike as he could get. Rob was driven, seeking relief from the tightness in his body, the arousal that was driving him to move against the rise of Mike’s ass, Mike’s back sweaty against his chest, Mike’s hair damp against his face. He held on to Mike’s hands, kissed his neck and swollen lips as long as he could before the scales tipped and he could no longer hold back. There was nothing in Rob’s mind but Mike, his sounds and his body, when the orgasm hit. It lasted longer than he expected, his cum spilling into the condom, and then his heart was pounding, his arms trembling, as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Mike… Mike…” Rob swallowed hard, trying to get his heart rate under control and keep his entire weight off Mike at the same time. “God… Mike.” He knew they weren’t finished, that despite all their years he hadn’t known Mike’s body well enough to make him come from penetration alone, and he wasn’t going to leave Mike wanting. “Be still,” he whispered, reaching down to hold the base of the condom as he pulled out carefully. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Rob soothed as Mike’s body went rigid for a moment, and then he dealt with the condom quickly and petted his hand up Mike’s leg, suggesting that he turn over. 

Mike was careful turning over, hot and sweaty and his body still on the edge, his erection present when their eyes met. Even without his glasses it was easy for Rob to read the neediness on Mike’s face, and he didn’t ask. He was back over Mike, his fingers taking the place of his cock as he took Mike back into his mouth. It was Rob’s turn to moan, the taste of Mike’s precum on his tongue while he finished the blow job he’d started earlier. He’d brought Mike to the edge so many times since they lay down together that it didn’t take long to bring him back, and Rob was single-mindedly focused on getting Mike off, despite the sated exhaustion in his own body. His heart was pounding when Mike called his name, when warm cum filled his mouth, and he didn’t hesitate to swallow it all. It was all over so fast, and then Rob was pulling his fingers out and kissing the insides of Mike’s trembling thighs as he came down.

Rob rested his face against Mike’s leg before he pulled himself up to the pillows and sank into the mattress, exhausted. It had been all been good, and experience told him they would learn each other better with every time they made love. He could hear Mike next to him, soft breaths that were slowing while time stretched and he started to drift off. After a few minutes he felt Mike’s hand on his chest and it brought him back to the present, and he opened his eyes. 

Mike was beautiful, his face flushed and satisfied, and Rob knew without a doubt he was the reason. He opened his mouth to say something, but Mike shook his head. Words from Rob weren’t necessary. He left a kiss on Rob’s lips, whispered “I love you,” before he slid off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, and Rob watched him go, knowing he was coming right back to him. 

****  
TBC


	16. Can't Hear You Now

**December 22, 2019**

Rob walked out onto the back patio and sat down. It wouldn’t be long until Mike was home. They’d gone separate ways that morning... Mike into Warner, while Rob stayed to track some drum parts. With the twenty year anniversary of Hybrid Theory coming, the five of them had started to work on some new material. It was Rob’s day to work on stuff, and Mike and Brad were meeting with their team about some promotional ideas. Everything was in the early stages, and that never required the whole band. Rob had been practicing more frequently in the past few months since Mike wrapped up the Post Traumatic tour, and it didn’t take him long to get to his satisfaction the tracks Mike had requested.

He was looking forward to the new year. They had planned a trip to Portugal after the holidays. Mike wanted to see the place Rob had disappeared those months after Chester passed, and it felt like good closure. Sharing the peace Rob had found in that place with Mike felt important. Rob had managed to book the same small Airbnb place in mid-January, and they would still be there on his birthday. Forty-one. He was turning forty-one, the last of the six to hit that mark, but he wouldn’t be the last to pass it.

_Chester. He still misses you, you know._

Rob squinted out at the pool. He’d found Mike’s notebook in the studio, the one he’d scratched lyrics in for his solo album. It felt like Mike had left it there on purpose. Rob couldn’t remember a time Mike had left any of his writing laying around, not before or after they had started living together. He’d sat at Mike’s work station and flipped through the pages carefully, looking at the notes and doodles, the scratched out words and entire lines he’d written over and over until they were right. Mike’s heart lived in those songs, and even though Rob had heard them many times, the raw intimacy and grief, the self doubt, the desire to overcome - it was all apparent in the process he could see in the notebook. 

They had worked through a lot in the past two years. Rob closed the notebook and left it where he’d found it. One of the biggest lessons he’d learned in that time was that his identity wasn’t just one-sixth of Linkin Park. Nor was Mike’s, Brad’s, Joe’s, Dave’s, or Chester’s. For so long it had seemed that was the case, that they were all only part of a whole. It had been almost mind blowing to realize they were all whole on their own, while at the same time being a fraction of the _thing_ that made up so much of their identity. He wasn’t just Linkin Park’s drummer, and discovering that he was more - a son, a brother, an uncle, a friend, a surfer, a musician, a lover and a partner - it had been the answer to the question he was seeking in those first bleak days without Chester, when Rob walked away from the band. 

Now it felt right to walk back toward the band and that identity, and make something come from those ashes. Together he and Mike had created something personal and fulfilling outside of the band, and going into 2020 they were ready to join the rest of the guys for their next chapter. They were all ready to prove everyone wrong who wrote them off as _has beens_ once the shock and grief had dissipated. 

_He’s better now. We all are. The dust has settled, and it’s all going to be okay, at least for the five of us. And me and Mike. Neither of us are going anywhere._ Rob got up and headed into the kitchen. He had one more dish to knock out before Mike got home, and he couldn’t wait any longer to get started.

Rob was absorbed in his cooking when Mike walked into the kitchen an hour later, a pink backpack over each shoulder. The chaos that accompanied three kids under ten came with him, though his son was carrying his own backpack. The twins were knocking into each other in their excitement to get inside and get their shoes off. All three - four if you included Mike - of them were ready to get the festivities started.

“Where’s the menorah?” Abby asked, running toward the living room, Josephine following behind. Mike heard Jojo ask, _what’s a menorah again?_ before they were out of sight, and he sighed, leaving their backpacks in their chairs at the kitchen table. They were seven, not helpless, and they were going to take them to their rooms when they were finished running around the house.

“We have a Christmas tree, right, Dad?” Otis asked, leaving his shoes next to his sisters’ in the mud room. He looked across the kitchen at Mike, who was hovering over all the covered dishes on the bar. 

“Of course,” Mike said without hesitation, his eyes moving from Otis to Rob, who was pulling the basket out of the fryer. “We’ll celebrate both.”

“This year the two holidays line up,” Rob offered, turning away from the stove with the basket in his oven-mitt covered hand. “That doesn’t happen every year.”

Otis nodded. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the small puff pastries Rob was scooping out of the basket and onto a plate. 

“They’re jelly donuts,” Rob answered proudly. “My mom’s recipe. Technically, they’re called _sufganiyah_ ,” he said, throwing Mike a look. “I’m about to dust them with powdered sugar.”

Mike crossed his arms and leaned against the bar. “Vegan jelly donuts?” he teased, knowing full well the delicious looking balls of fried dough weren’t vegan.

“It’s Chanukah.” Rob shrugged. He could feel Otis watching them. He still wasn’t used to the scrutiny he felt when Mike’s kids were with them, and this was their first major holiday together. _They’re going to be here until Chanukah is over. They’ll get to do the whole eight days._ “You can’t have a proper Chanukah without all of the food.”

From the corner of his eye he saw Otis venture off to the living room behind his sisters, and he lowered his voice. “Everything go okay picking them up?”

“She was fine,” Mike responded in an equally low voice, sliding the container of powdered sugar closer to Rob, along with his body. “It gets better every time. And hey, Otis talked to you first today.”

Rob looked up from his powdered sugar dusting. “Not really, but okay.” He knew he was being a bit of a brat, and he sighed when Mike frowned at him. “I’m sorry. I’m just looking forward to the day when it’s _all_ okay, for everyone.”

“He’ll come around,” Mike said lightly, leaning close to kiss Rob’s cheek. “The girls are excited to have this Jewish holiday explained,” he added with a sheepish smile, looking back toward the living room. “All they know is there’s eight nights of food. I figured you’d be better at telling the menorah story. I better go chase them down so they can get their stuff out of here.” Mike reached out and ran his hand down Rob’s arm before stepping away.

“I made those potato pancakes you like,” Rob called after him, nudging his glasses up with his shoulder. “If you guys are ready to eat, it’s ready to go.” He heard Mike agree that he was ready for dinner, and Rob watched him disappear before he put his eyes back on the doughnuts, making sure they were evenly sprinkled with powdered sugar. 

He finished and wiped off the black quartz countertop, taking a moment to admire the slab that he and Mike had chosen together. They’d been there less than two months, and everything was still sparkling and new. It had been a huge leap in their relationship to not only officially move in together, but move to an entirely new house. Giving up the studio at Mike’s had been hard, but now the two of them shared an even better set up, and Rob never woke up to find Mike gone, sitting in the studio alone. The nights he woke up to Mike awake still happened, but as the months passed and they grew closer to 2020, it was more and more infrequent. 

Moving hadn’t been his idea. One morning Mike had rolled over in bed and laced their legs together, and sleepily told Rob he was ready to move. At first Rob thought he meant get out of bed, but the conversation had quickly turned to selling houses and looking at real estate, and when they’d finally agreed on a property, the remodeling had been a whole different set of conversations.

But looking around, he was happy with how it turned out. The kitchen was huge, and together they had plenty of space to make the things they enjoyed without being in each other’s way. There were bedrooms for everyone, an office for each of them, and the double studio that he knew Mike adored. Despite the giant pool, Rob was grateful they were closer to the beach. It had been an all around good idea, even if the kids were still warming up to it all. 

The rest of the band had been positive about their coupledom and real estate transactions. Anna and the kids had been a little more reserved. And the label… Rob shook his head as he put away the powdered sugar. The label was still coming around. The upcoming Hybrid Theory anniversary had them acting a little warmer, and later Rob would ask how the promo meeting had gone. He was certain there would be good news.

He looked over the kitchen one more time. Everything was ready for dinner, and then he would tell the story of Chanukah and the oil that lasted eight nights, and light the first candle on the menorah. Part of becoming part of Mike’s family was Mike’s family becoming his own, and that included observing the religious practices of both sides. Blending their lives together was still a challenge at times, but they were dedicated to the idea of bringing everyone together. 

****

Mike was just coming into the bedroom when Rob got out of the shower later that night, and he watched his lover glance at his boxers and t-shirt while he rubbed the towel over his head. “What?” he asked softly, aware that it was late, and little ears were probably still listening from down the hallway.

“Just looking at you,” Mike whispered back, walking over to slide his arms around Rob’s waist and lay his head against the t-shirt. “You look relaxed.”

Rob tossed the towel away and pressed his lips to Mike’s hair. “Just happy to hear the meeting went well. Happy that dinner went well. Even O seemed interested in hearing the stories.” He ran one hand up and down Mike’s back. It was no secret Otis was having the hardest time of everyone making the adjustment to his parent’s divorce, and _Uncle Rob_ becoming a permanent fixture in his life, more than a friend to his father.

“He did. I told you, it was just going to take time.”

Rob couldn’t help but smile, even though Mike couldn’t see it. He knew all about time. He knew all about waiting. He had the patience to wait out Mike’s only son, and he had the grace to love him while he waited. Of all people, Rob knew how rewarding it could be to wait. He kissed the side of Mike’s face and stepped back. “You did, and you’re right. Some things just take time.”

Mike nodded, watching Rob as he pulled back the dark red blanket and crisp, light gray sheets they had chosen together. “Time,” he repeated, looking toward the windows. “That’s one thing we have right now that we better not waste.” 

Rob watched as Mike got lost in thought for a moment. It was the look that came over Mike when he was talking to Chester in his head. Rob waited, watching from behind, for Mike to come back to him. He respected those moments of distance. He trusted that Mike would always, always come back with a soft smile and a whispered _I love you, Bourdie._

Mike never kept him waiting long.

****

The End.


End file.
